


Shadows Fall Behind

by anoceanmonster



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Love, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:50:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoceanmonster/pseuds/anoceanmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just before the turn of the twentieth century, the Iero household experiences it’s second devastating loss. When Edward Iero, world renowned architect, replaces the recently deceased and much loved head of staff, Donald, with his eldest son, Gerard, no one knows if anything will work out. </p><p>Frank is a book loving recluse who rarely sees the outside of his study, but when Gerard enters his house and his life, he gets a love story all of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows Fall Behind

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic for wave three of bandombigbang 2013. My bonus material is [HERE](http://anoceanmonster.dreamwidth.org/9962.html). Please go and show my mixer and artist some love ♥
> 
> Also, the first poem read in this story is by Walt Whitman. The second is by Lord Byron. Both are poets from the 1800s.

Mary hears the carriage pull up before Frank does. A grey ear pricks in the air and her fat, bulldog head flops to the side as she listens to wheels and hooves skid against the gravel. She grunts and rolls clumsily from the chair. In the armchair opposite, Frank lowers his book and watches after Mary as she plods over to the window. She whines and scratches at the glass before looking back to Frank and barking sharply. 

Running his fingers through slightly unkempt hair, Frank brushes biscuit crumbs off his rumpled waistcoat and sighs. “I know,” he says to the dog before slipping his well worn leather bookmark between the pages of the novel he’s been engrossed in for the passed five hours. He whistles Mary over and then pulls affectionately at one of her ears. “I suppose we better put in an appearance, hm?” 

Mary barks again and skitters off in to the hallway as Frank heaves himself up from the comfortable cushions and on to his feet. 

“So, what do you think, Mary?” Frank asks quietly once they’re trailing towards the open doors and early evening sunlight. “Did my father make the right decision?” Mary snorts and skips ahead, disappearing out the front doors before Frank, who’s still trying to decipher the animal’s response. 

 

Donald Way had been the head of house staff for over twenty years, arriving just after Frank’s birth and his mother’s untimely death. He was the new face the house needed to lift it from its sinking grief and the gentle but firm nudge a bereaved husband required to start bonding with his new son. Kind, hard working and _always_ whistling, he was a strong and familiar presence through out Frank’s childhood and someone who made a precise and well run household still feel like a home. The day he started working for the Iero family the house took a turn for the better and no one, least not Frank, dared to think about what would have happened had a different man entered their lives. 

Last month, Donald died. When he left he took a piece of everyone in the house with him, maids and cooks and gardeners and even the master of the house – who Frank saw quietly shed a tear in his study later that same day. His position was one that would not be so easily filled and Master Iero’s final decision on his replacement had the whole house waiting with baited breath. 

 

From out of the carriage a young and impeccably dressed man steps in to the fading sunlight. As soon as his face is visible, the relation to Donald is unmistakable – same light brown eyes, same high hairline and sloped forehead, same walk…even the way he steps forward and takes Frank’s father’s offered hand and shakes it is so alike to his late father it’s almost disturbing. It makes Frank’s still grieving insides tighten. 

“Gerard, Mr. Way…welcome to our house. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” says Edward Iero. 

Frank doesn’t miss the few moments Gerard takes to soak in his first look at their awe inspiring house, in all its immaculately carved stone, grand clear windows and classic architectural glory. He never fails to feel intensely proud of the home his father has built and will always insist that his father is the best architect in the country, if not the world. 

Gerard smiles, lips tugging lightly and revealing slightly crooked teeth. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Iero. My father always spoke so highly of you and your home.” The two men stand out shockingly different against one and other, one slender and young with pale skin and dark raven hair, and the other, shorter and older, slightly rounded with greying hair from the top of his head to the tips of his moustache – and though their roles differ just as much as their appearance, there’s still a gratifying amount of respect between them. It’s something Frank has always admired about his father. 

Edward drops Gerard’s hand and nods. “Your father was regarded very highly here, Mr. Way, by the entire household. He was very good at his job.”

“I only hope, Sir, I too can offer you the same level of satisfaction.” Gerard’s words are honest and Frank can see the glimmer of sadness in his brown eyes as they talk about Donald. He wonders how close they were, but as the glimmer grows to a look of quiet but obvious pain, he doesn’t wonder again. 

“I hope so too, Mr. Way, now come – you must meet my son,” Edward says before turning to extend an arm towards Frank, beckoning him forward. Frank steps obediently to his side and outstretches a hand to Gerard who takes it quickly in a firm shake. 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Iero,” he says and when he takes Frank’s hand Frank can tell Donald must have spoken of him, because there’s a certain amount of familiarity with the way Gerard smiles at him. 

“Please, call me Frank.” As much as it displeases his father, Frank thinks a formal address should be saved for when he’s done something to earn it. 

Rolling his eyes, Edward clamps a large hand down tightly over Frank’s shoulder. “You must forgive my son’s appearance. He likes to lock himself away beneath piles of books all day without much regard to his attire.” 

Gerard’s lips quirk. “That’s quite alright, Sir. I too enjoy getting lost in a good book.” Though he’s looking right at Frank when he speaks, Edward replies before Frank can open his mouth. 

“Well then, you should find the library to your liking. My son has quite the collection.” It’s at this moment that Mary decides to make her presence known by pushing herself unsteadily on to her hind legs so she can lick sloppily at Gerard’s hand. “Oh, and I hope you like dogs, too.” 

After a brief moment of looking some what bemusedly down at the fat animal, Gerard finally reaches down to scratch the top of Mary’s wrinkly head. “I’m afraid I haven’t had much dealings with dogs, Sir, but I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” 

Seemingly satisfied with this response, Mary turns and trots back to Frank’s side before sprawling herself ungraciously out over the toes of his boots. 

“Well, that’s enough with introductions for now, I’m sure. You’ve had a long journey, Mr. Way; you must be needing a rest. James here will help you with your things and show you to your room.” He waves forward the young boy who’s been standing by the carriage since it arrived and then he turns back towards the house. “The cook will have left overs for you, if you’re hungry. I’m sure you will settle in well.” 

As he walks inside Mary rolls back on to her paws and follows with a series of snorts. Frank watches her disappear with amusement until James starts to unload the carriage. “Would you like some help?” Frank offers. 

“No, thank you, Mr. Iero – I mean, Frank. I don’t have many belongings,” Gerard replies meekly. “I’m sure James and I can manage. Thank you for the offer.” 

“If you’re sure?” Frank feels awkward and some what useless as he attempts to re-button his waistcoat correctly. 

Gerard nods and picks up one of the few cases with little struggle. “Quite sure, thank you, Sir.” 

~

From his armchair, Frank watches the sunrise. He didn’t see Gerard again last night, only heard his name in passing as Annie and Mrs. Meredith, two of the maids, hurried along the hall, extinguishing all the lamps. It’s not until now, as the house starts to stir, that he even remembers Gerard’s arrival. He’s been up all night reading and now has another book checked off of his ever growing list of untouched books. 

Although he often complains about his son’s addiction to literature, Edward Iero is terrible for ordering boxes upon boxes of the latest and oldest stories for Frank to devour. The only problem is that he often orders faster than Frank reads – which explains the towering shelves in his study, filled with books Frank’s yet to discover. 

Yawning and stretching some time later, Frank deposits the finished book on to the desk, ready to be shelved in the _devoured_ section of his library. 

He finds his father at breakfast, sat in his usual seat at the head of their large dining table, dipping fresh bread in to warm eggs. It makes Frank’s stomach growl with jealously. 

“The state of your hair tells me you’ve been up all night again,” Edward says in a mildly scolding tone. 

Frank runs his fingers through his tangled hair in futile effort to make himself look somewhat presentable. “Finished another book,” he says proudly. 

His father nods and sips at his tea. “Mm. And?” 

Frank drops in to his seat. “It was very good, though a little sappy.”

Edward laughs. “Well, that’s romance for you, my child. But sometimes sappy is good;” he shoots Frank a poignant look over his teacup “You’ll see, one day soon.” 

Frank presses his lips together thinly and nods, silently praying for his father to find more interest in breakfast that continuing this conversation. The door swings open, finally breaking their gaze as Gerard hurries in to the room with an empty silver tray. He looks startled but pleased to see Frank sitting next to his father, looking tired and uncomfortable. 

“Ah, Master Iero! Good morning. Would you like some breakfast?” 

“I’ll have the same as my father, please, oh – and coffee! Could you please bring me some coffee?” 

Gerard smiles and nods as he collects empty cups and pots and slides them elegantly on to the tray. “Certainly, Sir.” 

“Please, call me Frank,” Frank says as Gerard starts to turn away. He stops and gives Frank a small, barely there smirk.

“I’m afraid it’s going to take some convincing, Sir.” 

Edward laughs, bellowing and stomach shaking as Gerard leaves. “That boy is just like his father.” 

Frank hums. “Yes, they do look very similar.” There’s a short pause as Frank stares down at the table and collects his thoughts. “Do you still think you made the right decision?” 

Looking directly at his son, Edward nods sharply. “Yes, I do. Though there is still time…” he drifts off, staring at Frank intently as his eyes grow softer, kinder. 

Frank blinks. “What are you staring at?”

Edward quickly shakes his head. “Nothing.” He smiles and looks back at Frank. “You just remind me so much of your mother sometimes.” 

~ 

Frank doesn’t realise how late it is until his eyes start to strain in the warm glow of his desk lamp, tired and sore. He rubs at them with one hand and sets his book down with the other, now almost half way devoured. He picks at the plate of leftovers Mrs. Meredith had brought him some hours ago, flicking bread crumbs and strips of ham before leaning back in his chair and sighing heavily. 

“Is there something I can get for you, Sir?”

Frank jumps and turns, twisting his neck around until it hurts. In the doorway, Gerard is peering in curiously, eyeing the endless shelves crammed with hundreds of books. He looks back to Frank and smiles, waiting for his reply. 

“No, thank you,” Frank says, standing to collect a few stray books before crossing to the other side of the study. He lays them down on an opposite table and scans the shelves in front for empty spaces. When he hears Gerard collecting his plate and cup from the desk, he turns quickly. “You don’t have to do that,” he says rather quickly, and the urgency in his voice makes Gerard freeze as though he’s just done something terribly wrong. “I mean, I can take it. You must have been on your way to bed when you stopped here. It’s late.”

Gerard nods. “I’m aware of the time, Sir.” He straightens to produce a small pocket watch from the inside of his long, slick jacket. “It’s almost midnight. I was on my way to the kitchen for a glass of water, so really, Sir, it’s no trouble.” 

Frank finds himself smiling fondly. “Donald used to say that a lot. It’s no trouble.”

Pressing his lips together in an unreadable expression, Gerard continues to gather up Frank’s leftovers. “Yes, Sir, he did.”

There’s a long pause that quickly starts to make Frank feel uncomfortable. Gerard’s face is still unreadable and he shows no signs of leaving except for the clutched dinnerware. 

“You must miss him,” Frank finds himself saying before he can stop himself. Gerard blinks, head snapping back a little as though the statement has startled him. For a moment, Frank regrets it, mentally scolding himself with his father’s voice as it echoes about his head with lectures of inappropriateness. Then, Gerard’s eyes soften. 

“Every day,” he pauses to check the desk for anymore items to take and, when he finds none, turns to nod at Frank. “Goodnight, Sir.” 

As Gerard gets to the doorway, Frank adds, “It’s Frank.”

Gerard stops and smiles, now with a lot less solemn and more amusement. “It’s still going to take some convincing, Sir.” 

~

By the end of Gerard’s first week of work, a sort of strange routine has taken over. Frank will hide away in his study, emerging only for breakfast with his father or to walk Mary in circles around the outside of the house. In the late evening, Gerard will enter Frank’s study for brief conversation and to clear away the plates of left overs from dinner. With each short encounter, Frank learns a little bit more about the new head of staff and adds several more items to his mental list of _Reasons Why Donald and Gerard Way Are So Alike_. Gerard whistles and hums and mutters to himself as he passes by the study doorway during the day, mumbling a check list hurriedly to himself whilst he strolls the hallways like he has all the time in the world. 

Sometimes, when Frank is so deep within the pages of whatever he’s reading, forgetting all about Gerard and the past few weeks, he’ll briefly contemplate setting down his book to stop Donald and chat for a while. The quick realisation will often grab harshly at Frank, but the sadness subsides somewhat whenever Gerard peers in to the room with his father’s eyes and smiles. It’s oddly comforting and leaves Frank with a strange sense of ease. 

“How many of these have you read?” Gerard asks one night as he watches Frank shelve another devoured book. Frank laughs as he steps off the last rung of the ladder. 

“I read several books a week and I’m not even half way through. My father seems to think it’s a challenge.”

“It’s nice that he does this for you, though. Allows you to submerse yourself in something you love so much.” 

Frank watches the way Gerard’s eyes cast over a pile of books on his desk. “He’s not very silent about it. I’ve lost count of the amount of lectures my father’s given me about my aversion to reality.” 

“I don’t think it’s an aversion to reality,” Gerard says, “just a love of great storytelling. I think more men should allow themselves to get lost in the fictional worlds of others. It builds character, keeps the mind active and open.” 

Frank smiles, “You can borrow some, if you like, anytime you want.” 

“That’s very kind of you, Sir.” Gerard stares at Frank and Frank doesn’t miss the playful spark as he draws out the last word. 

“You are most welcome, Mr. Way. My library is always open to you.”

~

“We’re having a gathering,” Edward announces the next morning over breakfast. Frank’s spoon stops mid way to his mouth, nose wrinkling. 

“It was only the other month you threw the last ball, Father. Is there need for another so soon?” 

“Not a ball,” Edward says as he adds a fifth heaped teaspoon of sugar to his coffee. “I was thinking just a small gathering, some men from the building firm and their sons. We can use the rest of the good brandy from Christmas and play cards,” he stops to peer accusingly across at Frank. “You haven’t socialised in a while.” 

Opening his mouth to protest, Frank quickly thinks otherwise. There’s nothing he can do to argue. His father’s right. Instead he sighs and nods. “Very well.” 

Edward grins. “That’s my boy! You’ll have a wonderful time, you’ll see. It will be nice to spend an evening in your father’s company, will it not?” 

“I see you every day,” Frank points out, sipping his own coffee. 

“Yes, but I’ve been so busy at the building firm, and you’ve been so busy reading that we’ve barely seen each other. An evening of cards and conversation would be nice.” 

Guilt tugs hard at Frank’s stomach and he knows that he’s going to have to not only agree to the evening but also enjoy it – for his father. He forces a smile and nods again. “Yes, of course.” 

~

Gerard stops by Frank’s study at lunch, to clear away his plates and talk about the upcoming party. He’s been busy all morning, giving the gardeners some hands on help with the new flower beds. His sleeves are still rolled to his elbows and there’s a large smear of soil up his pale forearm. 

“Forgive my appearance,” he says politely as he wipes at his hands with a handkerchief before folding it away in to an inside pocket. “The pansies were so bright and I just couldn’t resist. I was just on my way to wash up.” 

Frank waves a dismissive hand. “Your apology is not necessary. I didn’t know you liked to garden.” 

“It’s what I used to do when I was younger, before I went in to service like my father. My mother is still an avid gardener,” he reminisces, smiling fondly. 

Rising from his chair, Frank leans above his desk, reaching on to a higher shelf. As he raises himself on to the tip of his toes, he begins to regret not going for the ladder. As he’s caught between the embarrassment of not being able to reach or giving up and getting the ladder, a warm, firm body presses close to his. Gerard’s arm appears over his, reaching up to the book his fingertips have barely been grazing for the last ten seconds.

“This one?” he says, breath ghosting over the hairs on the back of Frank’s neck. His stomach swoops unexpectedly and before he can shiver he recoils and stumbles to the side. 

“Yes, yes – that one,” he fumbles. 

Seemingly unfazed, Gerard grabs the book and then slides it across the table towards Frank. “Here you are, Sir.” 

Frank’s throat is dry and he swallows heavily. “Thank you.” 

When nothing more is said, Gerard steps forward and turns the book right side up. “A gardening book,” he notes. “Was this for me?” 

Frank still cannot recompose himself and the vibrations of his dipping stomach are still radiating through him like an electric current. He can barely force his head to nod. 

Smiling, Gerard takes the book in his long slender fingers. “Thank you, Sir. That’s very kind of you.” He looks down at the book for another moment and then begins to collect Frank’s plates and cup. “I should be getting back to my duties.” 

Frank nods quickly. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Gerard.” 

When Gerard leaves, Frank collapses back in to his armchair as though exhausted. He presses a hand to his betraying stomach wondering why he felt his insides sway, and how it’s possible that he liked it. 

~

It’s early evening and Frank’s not expecting to have his study door pushed carefully open and for a smiling Annie to step inside. He smiles back and greets her, trying to not look disappointed as she trots quietly over to his table.

“Good evening, Frank,” she says brightly, her tight brown curls just as bouncy as she. “Did you enjoy dinner?” 

“Very much so,” Frank replies earnestly. “The pie was especially wonderful.” 

Annie grins with glee. “I helped the cook to make it. She’s been teaching me for a while now, so I can be more useful.”

“Well that must explain why it was especially delicious today, and you are plenty useful, Annie.” 

The young maid laughs and blushes as she collects the dinnerware. “What are you reading today, another romance?” 

“No, not romance today,” Frank sighs, holding the book aloft. “It’s a mystery – a seemingly unsolvable case about a gruesome murder in London town.” 

Annie grimaces. “Oh my, I think I’d rather read the romance. Aren’t you worried about nightmares?” 

“Sir would have to sleep to have nightmares,” the two of them turn quickly as Gerard leans in to the room, smirking. Frank sits up as though something pulls him. 

“That is true,” Annie laughs. 

With a warm smile, Gerard instructs the girl away with a message for the cook. She nods, bids Frank a polite good night and then leaves. 

Frank is very aware of his breathing as Gerard walks further in to the room. “I came to clear from dinner but it appears the eager Annie has beaten me to it.”

“Not at all, I’m sure it’s in more of her job description than yours. Have you been busy?” 

“Your father’s had me moving furniture in the parlour, ready for the gathering. I wasn’t aware a cards table could be quite so heavy,” Gerard replies, wincing as he squeezes his bicep through his jacket. 

Frank frowns. “He should have sent for me, I would have helped.”

Gerard waves a hand. “No bother, Sir, don’t worry. Besides, I get the feeling you aren’t so eager to attend.” 

Leaning back in his armchair, Frank sighs heavily. “Am I that transparent?” 

“I don’t think your father’s picking up on it much, if that’s your worry. He’s busy deciding dinner choices for the evening.” 

“Dinner?” Frank says, dejected. “There’s a meal too?” 

“I’m afraid so. I’m sure you’ll end up having a pleasant evening, everyone likes card games, surely!” 

The eagerness and playfulness in Gerard’s voice makes Frank smile brightly as he laughs. Maybe the evening will not be so terrible after all. 

~

For the first time in perhaps a week, Frank sleeps in his own bed instead of propped up in his armchair. It feels almost foreign as his body wakes up horizontal, surrounded by soft fresh sheets and plump pillows, though he can still hear Mary snoring loudly somewhere on the floor, which is more than familiar. As tonight is his father’s party, Frank thought it might please him to find his son well rested for the occasion. Also, he was starting to feel aches in places he’s sure shouldn’t be there for at least another ten years. 

At breakfast Edward grins at his son and orders Annie to bring him fried eggs and fresh bread at once, which sounds nothing short of heaven to Frank’s rumbling stomach. He accepts the cup of coffee his father slides over gratefully, and allows him to talk excitedly about the evening’s events. Frank manages to remain casual as he asks Gerard’s whereabouts and pretends to be only mildly interested in his father’s response of Gerard being in the kitchen with cook, planning tonight’s meal. 

“Wilfred can’t make it,” Edward is saying when Frank finally gets a first bite of breakfast. “He’s come down with a bit of flu, but he’s sending his son, Sebastian. You remember Sebastian, don’t you?” he pauses just enough to allow Frank to nod. “Well, he’s just gotten engaged to Florence Goldman, a lovely young lady, so Wilfred tells me. They’ll be married by the end of the month.”

Frank hums and nods, taking another large sip of coffee. “Lovely,” he says, though he’s talking to the coffee more than his father. 

“We’ve been invited to the wedding,” Edward says, peering across at his son. “I think it’d be a nice chance for you to socialise some more, perhaps even meet a nice girl.”

“Father,” Frank groans. 

“I won’t talk about it,” Edward says calmly, holding up his hands in submission before picking up his cutlery again. “But I would like to meet my grandchildren in this lifetime.” 

Frank rolls his eyes. “Yes, father,” he sighs. 

~

Mary plods ahead in the warm sunlight, nose to the ground and stump of a tail wagging wildly. She snorts and yanks her head up, barking in to the distance before putting her nose in the grass again and sniffing quickly.

“Mary,” Frank warns. “Whatever you’ve found the scent of, you can lose it. I am not rescuing you from another angry squirrel.” 

The dog turns to look at Frank as though she’s understood every word he’s said, which wouldn’t actually be all that surprising to Frank. He laughs and nudges at the dog’s side with his shoe, encouraging her to roll on to her back and laughing even louder when she does so. He scratches her belly with the heel of his shoe as all four of her legs twitch in the air. She snorts happily and then rolls all the way over, stumbling clumsily back on to her legs and plodding off in search of adventure. 

When they get to the back of the house, Mary shoves her face in to a flowerbed of pansies, sniffing hard and then sneezing all over them. 

“Oh, Mary!” Frank laughs. “I don’t think Gerard will be very happy if he finds essence of Mary all over his hard work.” 

This time the dog pays no attention to her master and continues to snuffle her way through the flowerbeds. Frank smiles and shakes his head before taking a step back to get a better view of the newly planted flowers. It’s a beautiful array of colours, bright bursts of yellow amongst a sea of white and pale blue. They look especially dazzling in the sunlight, caught between it and the large clear windows of the lower ground of the house. 

Gerard had definitely done a wonderful job, Frank can not deny. He’s not surprised by the display of artistic vision, he suspected as much with the intricate way Gerard moves his hands when he speaks. Frank’s never been much of a visionary; something which he suspects saddens his father, who has a great mind and eye for detail. It’s present in every structure he’s ever built. Frank could never think that way. He supposes that’s why he loves to read so much, because then the scene is painted for him, a whole world crafted by such talented writers that it’s easy for him to slip in to it and stay there. How he wishes he were a writer. 

If Frank were a writer he could create such wonderful things, a world he’d never known could exist, and put them down on paper for other people to enjoy. He could create characters, such amazing and complex characters, full of adventure and knowledge, just waiting to go out there and live a life he never could, experience the world and everything it has to offer like he never could. 

With his smile growing fainter, Frank whistles for Mary and heads back inside. He’s in the mood to get lost again. 

~

The guests arrive at seven and are promptly shown to the dining room. Frank offers a brief smile and a quick handshake to each of them as he tries desperately to remember each of their names. Sebastian is quick to recognise, as he begins to brag about his upcoming wedding as soon as he steps through the door. 

In the smaller of their two dining rooms, the long table is set for ten. The dinnerware sparkles, gleaming in the light and ready for the fine food and wine that awaits it. Frank takes the seat at the bottom of the table as his father takes the head. Everyone is already laughing and chatting loudly, listening to one of his father’s terrible jokes. Frank feels itchy and uncomfortable and invisible. 

The meal is a simple three courses and terribly boring. Frank offers nothing more than a cursory nod to the most mundane questions. When his father looks down the table, Frank smiles brightly as though he’s having the time of his life. His father nods and is quickly pulled back in to conversation. 

It’s not until the end of the main course Frank sees Gerard. He’d caught a glimpse of him earlier, hurrying away with everyone’s coats, but now he can see how completely immaculate he looks, even more so than usual. Hair slicked back, tie perfectly tied, cuff links shining – Frank bets he smells clean too. 

“Isn’t that right, Frank?” someone says, and Frank quickly blinks away from staring at Gerard, to the end of the table where his father is looking at him expectantly. 

“What’s that, Father?”

“You’ve been trying to convince me to get another dog, haven’t you?” Frank blinks again and then nods. “Jack’s father is breeding his hounds,” he explains, clamping a hand over the shoulder of a young boy to his left. “Maybe you could convince him to let us purchase a pup when they’re born.”

Frank smiles at his father. “Maybe I could.” 

Edward winks at his son. 

~

After dinner the party moves to the parlour where Gerard is already waiting with a tray of brandy. The men all take a glass, passing Gerard as though he is not there. When Frank takes his and nods his head in thanks, he gets a quick quirk of lips from Gerard, not really a smile but more a comforting gesture that this will all be over soon – or well, that’s what Frank takes from it at least. When the tray is empty, Gerard disappears again and all Frank can do is watch him go before reluctantly wandering to an empty seat near Sebastian. 

Sebastian is full of conversation and apparently never tires of talking about his wedding. Frank does find it strange how rarely his bride to be is mentioned in these conversations, but then again it doesn’t seem strange for someone like Sebastian to be so boastful and self-centred. The younger men of the party seem to have collected around Sebastian, whilst Edward and his work colleagues laugh around large cigars and swish brandy in glasses, rather than drink it. 

Frank does not like Sebastian, this much he can tell from the brief recollection he has of him at previous events to the evening’s conversation. When he finally does talk about his fiancée, it’s only to make crude jokes about the wedding night. The others laugh and whoop immaturely as Frank sinks back in his chair and hopes no one notices him. 

“You know who will be attending our wedding?” Sebastian says to the group. “Anne Ashford. Do you know who Anne Ashford has a liking for?” The men snigger and Frank tries desperately to make eye contact with his father across the room, in hopes he’ll sense his discomfort and save him. “Our little Franklin,” Sebastian mocks as he jabs at Frank’s shoulder with a bony finger. 

“Me?” Frank says in disbelief. 

Sebastian nods and grins menacingly. “That’s right. And a little bird told me that although Anne likes to play daddy’s golden girl, when she’s infatuated her weak knees are easy to part,” he winks. The group laugh and mock, nudging at shoving at each other whilst whispering vulgar things. Frank doesn’t know what he wants to do more, leave or vomit. 

Frank shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” 

“Why not?” Sebastian demands, still laughing and jabbing at Frank. “She’s not the prettiest girl in town but you’re not exactly making her your wife, are you, Franklin?” 

The eyes of the group boar in to him, and Frank wishes more that anything that the ground would open up and swallow him whole. It feels as though they’re moving closer, their judging stares and mocking grins getting bigger by the second as Frank feels more claustrophobic than ever. 

There’s a sudden crash as Jack, the boy whose father breeds hounds, drops his brandy glass. Jack’s rather short, so the glass doesn’t have far to fall, but it still cracks in to several pieces. Sebastian tuts and glances the room before spotting Gerard, who’s already making his way over. 

“Clean this up,” he clicks and then points down at the mess. 

The way he speaks to Gerard like he’s nothing makes Frank’s fingers twitch. The men watch awkwardly as Gerard lays out a dish cloth and collects the pieces of broken glass. 

“Faster, man, we haven’t got all day. Get him another glass,” Sebastian barks. 

“Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir,” Gerard says politely as he stands, rag full of glass cupped carefully in his hands. 

Sebastian huffs and turns away from him, indication for the others to do the same. Gerard doesn’t look at Frank as he leaves and it fills Frank with a heavy feeling of guilt and regret. He should have said something to Sebastian, should have stood up for Gerard. He should have made Sebastian apologise and clean the damn glass up himself. He should have done something, instead of doing nothing – like a coward. 

The rest of the evening is a mix of card games and more of Edward’s terrible jokes. Frank keeps himself as close to his father as possible, in hopes that no one will drag him in to more embarrassing conversations. It works, mostly. Frank keeps to himself, watching his father play as he tries not to notice that Gerard hasn’t returned, but instead sent Annie to keep the glasses filled. 

~

Frank congratulates himself on surviving the night as Annie shows the men to the door. Edward cuffs Frank lightly on the cheek before ruffling his hair and bidding his son a good night. 

“We should do this again,” he says merrily on his way out of the parlour, a little tipsy from the brandy. Frank hums and nods, though his father was never waiting for his reply. 

Just as Frank is deciding on his next course of action, Mary comes skittering through the door. She barks happily, rolling on to her back as soon as she gets to Frank’s feet. Frank grins and scratches her belly with his shoe. 

“Hello, my mangy Mary. How nice to see you,” he says as the dog makes appreciative whining noises. “Have you been up to no good?” 

“If rearranging the flowerbeds counts as no good, then I’d say so. Though she did rather an impressive job,” Gerard says from the doorway. Frank’s eyes immediately shoot up to meet Gerard’s content gaze, and that earlier feeling of guilt quickly comes rushing back. 

“Where have you been?” Frank asks, and he didn’t mean it to sound quite so demanding, though Gerard doesn’t seem fazed. 

“I was helping to clear the dining room and then Mary and I went for a little walk. Why, were there any problems?” 

Frank shakes his head slowly. “No.” 

“Very well,” he uncrosses his arms and pulls at his cuffs. “I should be clearing up now, Sir, if you don’t mind.” 

As Gerard heads to one of the side tables to begin collecting the empty glasses, Frank rushes ahead. “Here, let me help.”

No sooner has Frank touched the glass, Gerard’s delicate fingers wrap around his wrist, stopping him. “Don’t,” he says softly, looking at Frank with a troubled expression. “Don’t punish yourself for what Sebastian did.”

Slowly, Gerard lets go of Frank, allowing him to draw his hand back and stuff it in to his pocket. 

“I – I’m not-,” Frank tries. 

“I don’t expect you to defend me to people like him. Not everyone has the same amount of grace and respect as you or you father.”

When he can find nothing else to say, Frank sighs solemnly. “I’m sorry, Gerard.”

Gerard smiles kindly. “There’s no apology needed. Besides…you are twice the man Sebastian could ever be.”

“Thank you,” Frank whispers as his stomach plummets in to his shoes. “So are you.” 

~

Routine finds them easily again and Frank relishes being back in the safety of his overcrowded study, with Gerard stopping by several times a day. His visits become more frequent but never last more than five or ten minutes. He brings tea and coffee and biscuits and dinner left overs, as well as treats for Mary. The plump animal has developed somewhat of an infatuation with Gerard, sometimes favouring to lay on his shoes rather than Frank’s. 

Sometimes, if Gerard is particularly busy, Annie will stop to collect the empty dinnerware. Frank is as polite and charming as he always is to Annie, who is probably one of Frank’s most favoured members of staff, next to Gerard and Bernie the carriage driver, who is probably the oldest living being on the earth. He likes to talk to Annie about delicious foods and romance novels, and even though she’s been working here near three years now, never gets the urge to spill his guts in front of her, like he does whenever Gerard’s around. 

Frank often wonders why he doesn’t keep a journal. Late at night these thoughts will find him, confusion wrapped in a restless fear of growing up. Sometimes he thinks it might help to write down how it makes him feels when his father asks about the future, about marriage and children and a career choice…things which most men Frank’s age and younger already have figured out. The trouble with this would be if he wrote everything down, it would be evidence, physical evidence that Frank hasn’t a clue what he’s doing or where he’s going in life. 

And then there would be the entries about Gerard, about his very presence in Frank’s life, the sadness Frank feels every time he sees Donald in those eyes, the fear and excitement he feels whenever Gerard is close, the way his stomach sinks and sways. There would be evidence of all this too… 

Frank scrubs a hand over his tired eyes that sting against the warm glow of the lamp. His throat feels dry and itchy and he swallows hard against the lump there. Shaking his head, he stands up quickly. What is he thinking? What good will any of this do? None, he decides, and heads for the hallway. 

A glass of water is all he needs. He hasn’t had a drink since dinner, and even then that was coffee. Yes, what he needs is a large glass of cold water and then a good night’s sleep. That’s all this is, a lack of sleep. Tomorrow will be bright and clear and everything will be better. When he turns the tap, he doesn’t realise his hands are sharking until the glass starts to clink against the sink rapidly, like chattering teeth. He fills it until it’s overflowing and then drinks as much as he can in one go, little rivets of water spilling out the side of his mouth. 

Gasping, he rubs his wet hand through his hair and shakes his head again. He can’t do this; he can’t allow his thoughts to consume him like this. 

“Don’t lose yourself,” he growls. 

“Frank?” 

Frank jumps, head whipping around and glass slipping from his hand and smashing to pieces in the sink. Gerard flinches at the sound and, as Frank starts to blindly feel for the pieces, rushes forward. 

“Damn it,” Frank whispers. 

“Don’t touch it,” Gerard says, pulling Frank’s hand away. Its then he sees the shaking and Frank wants to pull his hand away and just leave. Gerard presses Frank’s shaking hand between both of his. “Frank,” he murmurs softly, sounding concerned but not at all afraid. 

Frank can’t breathe. 

“I’m fine,” he chokes, finally pulling his hand away. “I – I’m fine. I just,” he can hear his own voice becoming more breathless with each word. “I just – I wanted…water.” 

Grabbing Frank’s elbow, Gerard steers him towards to wooden table in the center of the small staff kitchen. “Sit down,” he instructs. “I’ll get you some water.” 

Frank sits, grateful for the chair because his legs no longer offer him any support, and soon Gerard is setting a small cup of water in front of him. 

“Thank you,” Frank says, voice crackling.

Gerard takes the chair opposite, sitting and folding his hands on to the table as he stares carefully at Frank, watching him drink and finish the cup. Frank pushes the cup away and does anything to avoid Gerard’s eyes. When he finally looks at him again, the blank expression almost breaks him. 

He sighs. “I’m fine, honestly.” 

Gerard nods. “Yes, you look much better now.” Frank fiddles with a button on his shirt, hoping that their conversation is over. “You didn’t look fine a few moments ago, though. Actually, you looked quite terrified.” 

Finding Gerard’s eyes now filled with a calm sort of worry, Frank huffs a small laugh. “Just a dream, I suppose.”

“You haven’t been to sleep yet,” Gerard states, and its not accusing like Frank thought it would be. Its then that he notices Gerard is still fully dressed too. 

“Neither have you,” Frank notes. 

“I know. I’m restless at night, so I take walks.” Gerard says softly. “Honestly, I haven’t been able to sleep much lately.”

“Since your father died?” Frank asks, and when the words are out he wishes he could pull them back in. “I’m sorry.”

Gerard holds up a hand in assurance. “Don’t be. But, yes. Since my father died.” 

Frank lets silence fill the room before dropping his own hands on to the table and sighing again in what sounds a lot to him like defeat. “I miss him too.”

“Of course you do. He was a large part of your life, and you a part of his.” He’s not sure if he heard quite right, but something in Gerard’s voice makes it sound like he’s jealous. 

“Yes, but you were his son. He spoke about you and your brother all of the time,” Frank offers, in hopes of showing he knows just how important Gerard was to his father, even though he only saw him several times a year. 

Gerard’s lips quirk in to a small but real smile. “He spoke about you too. He used to tell me all the time about the boy that loved to read just as much as I did.” 

“When I was young,” Frank begins, “he used to tell me I was just as mischievous as you and your brother, Michael.” 

Gerard laughs quietly, and it sounds almost sad. “That’s what he used to say to us when he was home and we were misbehaving. He never was very good at punishments.”

“I honestly don’t think I ever saw him look angry,” Frank reflects. “He was the happiest person I’d ever met.” 

The way Gerard is quietly hurting across the table makes Frank ache to reach out and touch him, comfort him in any way he can. 

“I guess we both lost a parent, in some way,” Gerard says. “It must feel so cruel after losing your mother.” 

Frank’s unprepared for the mention of his mother, though he doesn’t know why in a conversation like this. 

“I never knew my mother. I have no recollection of her face, no warm memories of her or the person she was. I’ve only ever known of her what my father has chosen to share. It’s almost like she’s a complete stranger, and yet I miss her.” Frank can’t look at Gerard as he speaks. He’s never spoken of his mother like this to anyone, and still it doesn’t feel like he wants to collect the words and push them back in to his mouth like he thought it would. 

“I’m very glad my father was sent to you,” Gerard responds quietly. 

Frank looks up, surprised. “Even though he was away for so long?” 

“If it wasn’t to this house then it would have been another. I’m proud of my father for what he did, for you and your father. It’s been almost overwhelming to feel his loss here and to see it on everyone who knew him. I can feel him all over this house and sometimes it feels like it hurts too much, but it’s also helped me to grieve and come to terms with his passing.” 

“I’m glad you came here,” Frank breathes after a moment. 

Gerard looks right at him and smiles. “So am I.”

~

Another devoured book has Frank feeling accomplished. It only took him two days to read, and though it wasn’t overly long he still counts it as a victory. This time he chose another romance – a terribly cliché tail of a pirate and a woman he saves from a ship he and his crew rob and then set alight. The dialogue was a little off, sometimes humorous when it wasn’t suppose to be, but the descriptions were interesting enough to keep Frank page turning through most of the night. 

“That’s more like it,” Annie smiles as she collects Frank’s empty teapot. She taps the title of the book with a pale clean finger and hums. “Yes, I think I’ve read this one actually. Captain Clegg Brower and the lovely Mary, am I right?” 

“Yes, that’s the one,” Frank chimes. “I finished it this morning.” 

“You should read more romance. It might even give you a few ideas,” she winks and then takes the tray of tea and leaves.

Still blinking, bemused, a few moments later, Frank is completely unsure of what Annie meant by that last suggestion. It seems to bother him so much that he spends the rest of the day contemplating the possibilities. 

A few nights later, the results make themselves apparent in a rather strange dream. 

_In his study, at his desk, book splayed open in front of him, Frank smells burning. It’s just a faint scent at first, tickling at his nose annoyingly, but soon it gets stronger until it gets lodged in the back of his throat. Then he feels it, the warmth of the fire. Pushing himself away from the desk in to the center of the room, Frank quickly realises his study is on fire. In the blink of an eye, high flames engulf every shelf of every bookcase. Frank watches, horrified, as his precious books burn to nothing. The curtains catch fire and then the windows crack and shatter. Frank tries to call for help, but when he opens his mouth, no sound is heard._

_Then, the door bursts open and Gerard is stood there, dressed like a pirate captain in large brown leather boots and a high red feather tucked in to the side of a black velvet pirate hat._

_“I’ve come to save you!” he announces grandly before rushing forward and scooping Frank up in his arms. He runs to the door, but when they get there they’re not in the hall as Frank would expect, but instead atop of a cliff overlooking the ocean._

_“Where are we?” Frank asks, and as Gerard sets him down again Frank’s surprised to feel the grass against his bare feet. He looks down at himself to see that he is no longer wearing his usual attire, but a long and ash stained night shirt._

_“You’re safe,” Gerard says and he’s close, hands on Frank’s waist as he whispers in to Frank’s ear. “I saved you, so we could be together. A life at sea is lonely, and this captain could use a first mate just as pretty as you.”_

_Then, in strong hands, Frank is turned and pulled in to a kiss. Their mouths meet and fasten together like they intend to stay that was forever. Frank’s body is pulled tighter in to Gerard’s and those same strong hands begin to caress Frank everywhere with feather light touches. As Gerard pulls at Frank’s night shirt, the angry ocean below them roars and sends a great wave crashing down over them._

Frank wakes with a start, gasping as if he has only just found the ability to breathe. He grips at his bed sheets and listens to his breathing. It echoes through out his otherwise silent bedroom and, when it’s slowed enough for Frank to grasp where he is, he collapses back against his pillows. 

Groaning, Frank presses the heels of his palm against his closed eyes, and it’s only when the sheets shift against his body that he realises what the sensation is. He’s hard. He is obviously and painfully hard. Frank has never been more grateful for his choice to sleep in his own bed rather than the study. 

Rolling his night shirt up to his stomach, Frank takes his swollen cock in a tight and firm grip. His hips roll quickly upward, stuttering towards the contact as Frank moves his fist up and down, up and down until his breath is hitching so much that he has to bite his free hand in order to keep himself calm. Behind he closed eyes he sees Gerard’s face, half hidden by the dip of the pirate hat. He reaches out and touches Frank, hand trailing up his thigh and under his night shirt. Frank can hear the ocean again. 

Squeezing his hand even tighter around his cock, Frank thrusts up with each pump, over and over again, eyes clamped shut as his dream plays out, until his mouth drops open and he comes. He lays there in the afterglow of orgasm for a few moments before moving to clean himself, trying not to think too much about anything. 

~

Frank returns to his study promptly after dressing, mostly to make sure that it’s still in fact standing. It is, and it’s just as welcoming with its quiet serenity and high shelves as it always has been. Frank grabs a well worn favourite from a near by shelf and settles in for the day. 

It’s hard for Frank to concentrate on the words in front of him when the visions of this morning and last night insist on plaguing his mind. He’d given up on the shame attached to self pleasure long ago, but something tugs at him when he realises this is the first time he’s ever thought of another person. 

_Just the book_ , he tells himself, shaking his head and pushing the offending book off the edge of the desk. _It’s just because of the book_. 

But, of course, Frank knows it’s not just the book – though it may have prompted his brain in a rather interesting manner – the initial spark was from no other source but his own heart. 

After lunch, Frank closes the book and retires back to his bedroom. Mary finds him some time later and after five humorous minutes of watching the podgy dog try desperately to jump on to the bed, Frank gives in and pulls her up, allowing her to settle beneath the quilt along with him. 

~

Frank had almost forgotten about Sebastian’s wedding, and the distain on his face when his father tells him that his new suit has arrived is obvious, to everyone. Edward offers his son a kind glance, and Frank wonders just how much of the conversation on their gentlemen’s evening Edward overheard. Never the less, he’s not letting up, and Frank finds himself sighing and nodding over eggs on toast that he will try on the suit tonight, just to make sure everything fits. 

It does, unfortunately. It even makes Annie blush as Frank steps out from behind the screen and does a little twirl. 

“My, Frank, don’t you look positively edible?” she squeals. “You will be batting them away with a stick at the wedding.” 

“I will if I have to,” Frank grumbles, paying no attention to Annie’s eye roll as he sulks over to the mirror. 

It is a very nice suit. 

~

Conversation has been plentiful but brief between Gerard and Frank in the last few days since Frank’s episode in the kitchen. Gerard has been busy with his rounds and once again busying himself in the garden with a new delivery of bulbs, but when he does manage to find his way in to Frank’s study, Frank is always grateful. He doesn’t mention that night again, and Frank’s not sure whether to be thankful or sad. 

Instead, Gerard enthuses about rose bushes and blossom trees as well as continuously winning Mary’s undying love and affection with kitchen scraps and belly scratches. 

On the morning of the wedding Frank is surprised but most definitely not disappointed to see Gerard step in to the dressing room instead of Annie (though he is now extremely aware of how little clothing he is wearing.) He scuttles quickly behind the screen, pretending not to have noticed Gerard’s little smirk. 

“Here is your suit, Sir,” he says, slinging the clothes over the top of the screen. 

“Thank you.”

Frank changes quickly in to his shirt and trousers and then steps out struggling with the buttons on his waistcoat. Gerard sighs and waves Frank’s clumsy hands away before buttoning the whole waistcoat in three seconds flat. Frank tries to ignore the way his stomach swoops and heartbeat quickens every time Gerard touches him, but the familiar visions of the night before won’t let Frank’s senses rest. Gerard finally smoothes his hands down the front of the buttoned waistcoat before helping Frank in to his jacket. 

“There,” he says, satisfied, to himself as he brushes a hand down each sleeve. “Perfect.” He takes a step back, as if to admire his work, and Frank can suddenly feel the weight of Gerard’s gaze. 

Frank gulps. “Thank you, Gerard,” he says quietly, moving to inspect himself in the full length mirror. He uses his hand to flatten down the back of his hair and can almost hear his father’s scolding voice. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Gerard begins as he starts to rummage through small box on the table. He pulls out a clipped white rose. Frank sighs. He knows where this is going, and with his aversion to pollen its going to make the day’s events even more uncomfortable. 

Gerard steps forward, back in to Frank’s personal space, and pins the rose on to the lapel of his jacket. He’s so close Frank can still smell the soap from his morning wash and he notices a mark on Gerard’s jaw where he must have caught himself whilst shaving. Frank finds himself filled with the urge to touch it, not with his hand but with his mouth. He holds his breath until Gerard steps back again with a triumphant nod. 

“Isn’t a white rose a little cliché?” Frank asks, looking down at the offending flower. 

Gerard smiles. “Sometimes, Frank, a cliché is the only thing that will do.” There’s a pause whilst Gerard takes another step back to look Frank up and down. “Very nice,” he says. “You look…”

“Edible?” Gerard’s eyes widen and he splutters a surprised and nervous laugh. “That’s what Annie told me yesterday.” 

“Well,” Gerard begins, coughing and regaining composure, “I’m not sure how your father would react to that sentiment, but you definitely do look very handsome.”

Frank grins, almost pleased with himself that he’s managed to make Gerard feel so uncomfortable. 

“Thank you, Gerard. So do you.”

Gerard smirks and shrugs. “What, this old thing?”

~

The wedding is every bit as ghastly as Frank had originally feared. Sebastian’s bride looks beautiful and she smiles like this is the happiest day of her life. Frank wonders if she knows what kind of man Sebastian really is and he almost feels sorry for her. Sebastian struts about, his arrogance rolling off him in thick waves, even during the service. He glances around every few seconds, just to make sure that all eyes are on him. He truly is a grotesque human being. 

The service is dragged out with hymn after hymn, and though Frank despises every second he would gladly stay there for the rest of the evening rather than live through the wedding party. Anne Ashford has already started waving at him from the opposite side of the isle, and Frank’s going to have to make a dash for the bathrooms before she can catch him and do something horrific like ask him to dance. 

At dinner Frank is thankful for the corner seat on the last of the three long tables. Thankfully Anne Ashford is no where to be seen and Frank finds himself seated between his father and Jack, the boy whose father breeds hounds. Frank allows himself to be pulled in to a conversation about dogs, and finds himself smiling as he recounts Mary’s wonderful and bizarre personality to Jack. Frank supposes this part isn’t so bad. The food is nice and Jack seems to be just as enthusiastic as Frank is when it comes to his four legged friends. He knows though that this is only temporary, and the terrifying after party is just around the corner. 

No sooner has the thought crossed his mind they are being lead away from their tables in to the elegant ball room. Frank stays as close to his father as possible, which turns out to be a rather foolish plan as Edward Iero is a popular man, and soon Frank is being introduced to unfamiliar faces, shaking countless sweaty palms and smiling uncomfortably. 

“So, Frank. You must be about ready to join your father at the building firm,” someone is saying. Frank blinks at the elderly man, distracted momentarily by his large gold pocket watch. 

“Uhm…” he stumbles. 

Edward’s hand clamps down protectively over Frank’s shoulder. 

“The boy isn’t yet sure what his path is. Perhaps something a little more academic or maybe something in the line of animal care. He has quite a way with dogs.” 

“An Iero working with mutts?” the man scoffs. “You’ve got architectural brilliance running through your veins, boy! Don’t waste it.” 

With some more blinking, Frank manages to avoid answering as his father steers the man towards another conversation topic. Frank sighs inwardly; never more grateful to have the father he has than right that very moment. Frank knows this will not be the last of these types of conversation and is torn between staying by his father’s side and under his protection, or heading for a quiet corner in hopes that the likes of Anne Ashford or, God forbid, Sebastian, don’t spot him. 

As Edward is pulled in to yet another large circle of gentlemen, Frank decides to escape to the far corner of the room. There’s an empty seat well hidden behind a group of rather large ladies, laughing and sipping tea, and Frank takes it quickly. There he sits, eyes closed and heart beating, listening to the elegant music. Hopefully, no girl will find him and request to dance. He breathes slowly, finding his hand rising to cover his heart. His fingers brush the petals of the white rose still pinned to his jacket, and the memory of Gerard so close sends an electrifying jolt through his body. 

The only person to approach Frank for the next hour is a waiter, offering glasses of champagne. Frank takes two of them, in hopes that it will both give him something to do and deter his mind away from dangerous territories. 

The champagne accomplishes one of those things, as do the other four. 

~

The carriage arrives to collect them not long before eight and Edward smirks knowingly at his tipsy son for the entire ride home. The rhythm of the horses and wheels are almost enough to lull Frank to sleep, but the open window and evening breeze do a better job of keeping him awake. 

At home Edward retires to bed immediately, drowsy from the wine and hours upon hours of endless conversation. Frank does his best to whistle for Mary, and when she comes plodding down the hall he steers her towards the gardens. Maybe fresh air will steady the buzzing in his head.

The air accomplishes little, but the feeling of cool open space lit by nothing but moonlight leaves Frank with plenty of room to think. Maybe a little too much room. He pulls the white rose from the lapel of his jacket and twirls it by its shortly trimmed stem. It’s elegant, beautiful, fragile and pure. In a way it reminds Frank a lot of Gerard, his beauty and grace and the way he completes this house, just like his father did. But there is something more, something so much more and Frank’s beginning to realise that he’s felt it since day one, since the first time Gerard stepped out of the carriage and in to his life. 

Gerard talks to Frank like he’s known him his whole life, and, in a way, Frank supposes he has. He never expected to feel so comfortable around Gerard, so safe and completely at home. The way Gerard always knows just what to do and say leaves Frank often confounded, how he just slipped in to the house like he had always been there. 

Just having Gerard’s name in his head makes Frank’s pulse quicken, because as comfortable as it can be to just talk to Gerard about anything from his mother to his favourite books, never has Frank felt more out of sync. When Gerard is close to him it knocks him off track – because he has never felt so complete and out of place all at the same time. There’s something happening, something stirring and growing since the day Gerard arrived and sometimes, Frank thinks Gerard can feel it to. 

Not sure whether it’s the space, the thoughts or the several glasses of champagne moving his legs back towards the house, Frank just knows he has to talk to Gerard. Now. 

~

Unsure as to what the purpose of his being here is, Frank creeps on down the quiet staff corridor. Gerard’s room is right at the end, up a few creaky stairs. It’s Donald’s old room. Frank’s only been in there a handful of times before. The corridor is dark as most of the staff has already retired for the night. At the bottom of the steps, Frank takes a deep breath. They don’t creak as much as he last remembered. 

Gerard’s door is slightly ajar and the room is bathed in the warm glow of the lamp on the far table. The shadows of the bed and other furniture flicker in the light, and as Frank searches them he realises Gerard is not there. Frank’s palms are warm, skin itching with something other than heat, and he carefully lays a hand against the door to push it slowly open. Frank’s heart is hammering so much so that he can feel it in his throat. What is he doing here?

Something on the table catches Frank’s eye. It’s a painting, an unframed canvas leaning against the back wall. As Frank moves closer, he begins to recognise the building in the picture. It’s the house. It’s a painting of his house – and a rather extraordinary one at that. The colours are warm, like the room, like Frank’s palms, and the house looks quiet and safe in the evening sunlight. Gerard must have painted this, Frank realises, and it fills him with an emotion so raw that he can barely contain it. It’s like Gerard sees this house exactly the way Frank sees it. Safe. Home. 

“Frank? What are you doing here?” is the next thing Frank is aware of. He spins quickly as Gerard rushes in to the room. “You shouldn’t be here,” Gerard is whispering, checking cautiously down the hall before closing the door carefully, as if it’s made of fragile glass. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his hair is tousled like he’s been busy. His skin looks warm and comfortable in the light. 

“Did you paint this?” It’s the only thing Frank can say, the only words in his mouth that he will allow free – for now. 

Gerard looks confused as though he doesn’t understand the question. Finally, he looks from the canvas to Frank and nods. “Yes, I did.” 

“It’s stunning,” Frank breathes, glancing back to it again like he can’t believe it really exists. 

“Thank you, but that still doesn’t answer why you are here,” Gerard says and it sounds almost pleading. 

“I – I don’t know,” Frank replies, mostly because it’s the truth. He has no idea why he is here or what he expected to find. “Where were you?” 

“Cleaning,” Gerard answers quietly, like he’s still afraid someone will hear though there is a great distance between this room and the next. “Frank, you can’t be here.”

“Why? Don’t you want me here?” Frank can hear the sadness in his voice and he never meant to sound so pitiful. 

Gerard physically recoils from the question. “I-” he starts, but quickly falls silent. 

Frank doesn’t know if it’s the champagne again, but something moves him closer to Gerard, who visibly stills. 

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks. 

When he’s close enough to touch, Gerard reaches out and does so, but not in the way Frank wants. Instead he stops Frank with a hand against his chest. 

“Frank, what are you asking me?” Gerard whispers. 

After a pause Frank sighs and steps back. He finds himself sitting on the edge of Gerard’s impeccably made bed, raking both hands through his hair. “I don’t know,” he near sobs, and very quickly a weight drops down next to him. 

Gerard reaches out and touches Frank’s shoulder gingerly. “What’s the matter, Frank?”

Frank’s never heard Gerard use his name so many times in one conversation, and each time he does so it makes Frank’s heart ache. Its comforting and familiar, even though he doesn’t call him by name often. 

Resting his hands in his lap, Frank stares at them for a moment before looking up at Gerard, finding that expected look of uncertainty and concern in his eyes. 

“I just don’t know how much longer I can take it,” Frank whispers. 

Gerard’s hand falls from his shoulder and wraps around Frank’s wrist. “Take what?” he asks slowly.

Frank blinks. “You,” he breathes and Gerard immediately removes his hand from Frank’s wrist. Frank wishes he wouldn’t. “I feel things for you, things I’ve only ever read about, and it scares me to death.” 

“Frank,” Gerard says, like it’s a warning. “You can’t say that.”

“Why not, when it’s the truth?” Frank asks, desperate and honest. “Gerard, when you are next to me I feel like the world has no ground, like I don’t know which way is up or down or left or right. You make me feel so comfortable and yet so unsteady that I don’t know what to do with myself. I want to talk to you about everything, share things I’ve never told anyone else. Every time I see you, I want to reach out and touch, just to make sure that you’re real.” 

For what feels like a long time, Gerard just stares at Frank, expression unreadable. It makes Frank’s skin start to itch again. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Gerard finally says and Frank has to take the last ounce of strength he has to reply-

“Because I think you feel it too.” 

“Frank,” he starts, again sounding like it’s a warning, but for what Frank’s not sure. 

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” Frank says quietly. “Tell me you feel nothing of the sort and I will get up and leave and never speak of this again.” 

The pause that follows is agonising, and Frank can feel the sharp edges of reality start to pierce through the warm light in the room. He starts to panic, and when he moves to stand Gerard’s fingers wrap around his wrist again. 

“Frank,” he says, and this time it sounds just as desperate and pleading as Frank had done. 

When Frank allows himself to be pulled back down, he doesn’t stop there. He’s not sure if he pushes or if Gerard pulls, but it ends up with their mouths pressed tightly together and Frank’s whole world falling in on itself, but in the most wonderful way. Gerard’s other hand moves to Frank’s face, cupping his jaw, thumb stroking just below Frank’s closed eye. The kiss softens, Gerard’s warm lips becoming moist when he moves them against Frank’s. Suddenly, Frank gets it, what every romantic book he’s ever read was talking about. This kiss. This first kiss, thrumming with a nervous kind of excitement that Frank’s never felt before. He feels almost dizzy with it. When Frank gasps in to Gerard’s open mouth, Gerard takes Frank’s hand and presses it over his heart. 

“I felt it,” he whispers, pushing his forehead against Frank’s. “Of course I felt it. I felt it the first day I saw you. Frank, you are the most real and treasurable presence in my life right now.” 

Frank opens his eyes, and when he finds Gerard smiling at him it feels like his chest is going to burst. “For a second I thought you didn’t-”

Gerard shushes Frank, shaking his head as he presses a chaste kiss to the bridge of Frank’s nose. “It was just shock, I assure you. I have spent every day telling myself this could never be true, that you could never feel all those wonderful things you just said.” 

Biting his own lip, Frank covers the hand on his face with his own. “This can’t be real. I must be dreaming,” he says. “Will this still be real tomorrow?”

Gerard sucks in a slow breath and slides their hands down from Frank’s face to clasp together in his lap. “Yes, it will still be real,” he begins, “but I suspect daylight may make it a little too real. Frank, there are so many obstacles to talk about.”

Frank shakes his head softly. “Not tonight. Please, not tonight. I’ve had enough conversation for a lifetime.”

Gerard squeezes Frank’s hand. “Alright, we won’t talk tonight.” 

“Can you just sit here with me?” Frank asks. “Just for a little while. I don’t think I’m quite ready to have this moment end.” 

With a small smile, Gerard brings Frank’s hand to his mouth and presses a feather light kiss to his knuckles. Frank’s stomach swoops in that familiar way it always has done around Gerard. “Of course,” Gerard says softly. “Why don’t you tell me about the wedding?”

Frank does. He recounts every little horrific detail, every thought he had during the day, even the ones about Gerard (which makes Gerard smile and flush a little). Then he leaves, with nothing more than a lingering kiss and a promise to talk tomorrow – but that’s all he needs. 

~

When Frank sits down to breakfast, he can’t be completely sure that he isn’t dreaming. The walk from his room to the breakfast table has left him to feel as though he is floating, with only the pit of his stomach keeping his feet firmly on the ground. He drops in to his seat and sighs, causing his father to glance up from whatever paperwork he’s scratching over with his fountain pen. 

“Something the matter, my son?”

Frank presses his lips together tightly, quenching the nervous laugh that’s building. He swallows. “No, father. I’m fine.” 

Edward gives Frank an odd look, but then again Frank supposes he’s used to giving him odd looks by now, and returns back to his paperwork. 

“Sleep well?” Edward asks, this time not looking up from his work. 

“Yes,” Frank answers quietly. “Very well, thank you.”

“No headaches this morning? No nausea or other feelings of illness?”

When Frank looks over at his father again, he can see that he is smirking. Frank narrows a glare at him, even though he cannot see. 

“No, I’m quite fine.” He plays with his empty teacup for a few moments before huffing like a child. “I wasn’t even that bad, honestly, father!” 

Edward snorts out a laugh, dropping his pen and throwing his head back. The door swings open and Gerard enters, large silver tray in hand filled with Frank’s favourite smelling coffee and his father’s usual tea. Frank’s heart swells and hammers in his chest, so much so that he imagines it running around his ribcage like an over excited dog. 

“Good morning, Sir. Is something amusing?” Gerard enquires as he sets the teapot down in front of Edward. Frank wonders how he can be so casual and calm when Frank feels like he’s be bound to the chair. He doesn’t even look at Frank as he places the coffee so elegantly on the table. 

“Oh, nothing,” Edward chortles. “Just the naivety of youth.” 

Gerard smiles. “Without naivety, there would be no lessons learned,” he says as though he is reciting. 

“Very well put and you are quite right,” Edward says before raising his teacup and tilting it towards Gerard. “To naivety.”

“To naivety,” Gerard nods, and finally his eyes grasp on to Frank’s gaze in a look that banishes all of Frank’s previous concerns on the reality of last night. 

Frank is still watching the door when his father speaks again. “I wanted to tell you that the building firm has accepted an offer from the Mayor.”

“Really?” Frank asks, eyebrows raised in interest as he pours himself a large cup of coffee. “What for?” 

Edward smiles. “To build the new town hall.” 

Frank gasps, lowering his cup so quickly that it clatters against the cutlery. “Father, that’s incredible!” he enthuses. 

“It’s a two year project and he’s asked for me personally to be the chief designer. Apparently he’s been an admirer of our house for years.”

Frank beams at his father as he feels his chest fill with pride and admiration. “That’s wonderful, father, but it really is no surprise. You are, after all, the best architect in the world.” 

Edward smiles loving at his son. “It’s a great project, and I’m going to be very busy for the next few months especially, so I thought it might be nice if I take the day off tomorrow. We could go horse riding, we haven’t done that in a while. I’ll have Annie pack us a picnic and we can spend the whole day together, just you and me. What do you say?” 

“Yes,” Frank replies quickly, nodding frantically. “That sounds perfect.” 

“I thought I might buy you some more books too, see if you can read through a library quicker than I can build a hall.” 

Frank laughs, “I think I’m up to the challenge.” 

~

Frank’s not expecting to see Gerard again until lunch, so it’s a surprise to see him slip in to his study not an hour after breakfast. He lowers his book as a mixture of nerves and excitement grips his stomach with an iron force, able to do nothing more than watch as Gerard presses his back against the closed door. 

“I can’t really stay long,” Gerard says quietly. “I promised Mrs. Meredith I’d help her clean the chandeliers.” 

“I don’t want to get you in trouble with Mrs. Meredith,” Frank replies. “I honestly didn’t expect to see you until lunch, or even this evening.” 

“I know. I didn’t expect to come until then. I, I suppose I just couldn’t stay away from you that long.”

There’s violent tug in Frank’s midsection that feels as though he’s going to go flying towards Gerard, who’s currently glancing at the floor with a shy smile and the slightest tint of pink in his cheeks. 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Frank says and Gerard’s smile turns big and bright as he looks right at Frank. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re glad,” he replies, laughing almost nervously. “I really do have to go, though, but I’d hoped we could meet tonight.”

“Of course,” Frank nods. “In here, after dark?” 

“Actually, I was thinking about the gardens. There’s a full moon tonight and I still haven’t explored these gardens further than the flowerbeds. We could go for a walk, perhaps take Mary with us.” The suggestion in Gerard’s voice makes it sound as though he is waiting for rejection, which makes Frank feel uneasy. 

“That sounds perfect,” he says quietly, watching intently as Gerard tries to hide his relief. 

“Alright,” he nods. “Good, that’s – good, yes. Very good. I should, uh-” 

Frank can’t help but smile. “Mrs. Meredith?” he suggests. 

“Yes!” Gerard says, pushing himself away from the door with a start. “Mrs. Meredith. I would hate to witness her bad side.”

Frank laughs. “Yes, you certainly would.” 

Stopping when he’s halfway out of the door, Gerard turns back to pin Frank with one of those looks, like the one from breakfast. “Have a lovely day, Frank.”

With his tongue pressed firmly against the roof of his mouth in attempt to stop himself grinning so widely, Frank nods shortly. “You too, Gerard.”

~

Evening does not arrive in the hurry Frank had spent the day hoping it would, and when Annie arrives with the tray carrying Frank’s supper, it feels as though breakfast were a week ago. 

“How has your day been, Annie?” Frank asks cheerily as the young woman gathers up his numerous empty cups. 

“A day of the usual routine, thank you, Frank. It sounds like you’ve had a good day, though, judging by the size of your smile.” 

“Maybe I’m just this happy to see your lovely face,” Frank flirts. Annie laughs and bats him away with a hand. 

“You sound just like Gerard,” she laughs. “The man has been whistling and singing all over the house, and at lunch he twirled me around like we were dancing at a great ball. I think the job is finally starting to get to him,” she says, tapping her head with a finger and smirking. 

Her words make Frank want to blush and sigh dramatically like all the women in all the books he reads, but instead he simply smiles sweetly up at Annie. 

“Maybe this house is just a joyful place to be,” he says before picking up his fresh cup of coffee. “Thank you for the food, Annie.” 

Annie does a little curtsey before leaving, bidding Frank goodnight. 

~

The moon is full and bright, appearing in all its crisp white glory as the last wisp of dark cloud floats away. Frank watches from the steps at the front of the house, Mary’s leash wrapped tight around his wrist as the dog sits obediently by his feet. Though he’d remembered to bring his jacket the cold breeze of late evening is still able to get to him, prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. He rubs at them with cold fingertips. Maybe a coat would have been a better decision. 

When Frank hears the front door open and close again he doesn’t turn around. Instead he lets Gerard descend the steps until he’s on the gravel, looking up at Frank expectantly. In the moonlight, he looks even more impossibly perfect, from his tousled hair to his pristine waistcoat. Mary greets Gerard by rolling on to his feet and Gerard returns the gesture with the usual belly scratch. He smiles at the dog and then at Frank, except the smile for him is even more adoring. 

“Shall we?” Gerard says, offering his hand. Frank nods and takes it, allowing himself to be pulled up from the steps. When Gerard lets go, Frank hopes the darkness hides his foolish disappointment. “So, where to?” Gerard asks as they begin to walk. 

“I thought I might show you the pond,” Frank says. “It’s one of my favourite places.” It’s also secluded, hidden by low trees and tall grass around the back of the house – but its true that Frank favours this spot over many others in their vast gardens, particularly in the spring time. 

“Excellent,” Gerard replies. “I’m eager to see the whole of this place, but I think it would take us more than a night.” 

“For someone with such an interest in gardening, I’m surprised you haven’t been exploring until now.” 

Gerard sighs. “I know, but the job has kept me busy and I have little excuse to be out here. Your three gardeners already do such a wonderful job.” 

“Did the last house you worked for have gardens like these?” Frank asks, suddenly aware that he knows little about Gerard’s life before he began to work for them. 

“Land large enough for the children to play and to host summer parties, but nothing like this,” he explains, gesturing around them. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen gardens like these.” 

Frank laughs. “You know, I’m not even sure myself how much land we have. When I was little it seemed to stretch on forever.” 

“I think it still seems that way,” says Gerard, head tilted towards the sky as he breathes in the fresh garden air. “It smells wonderful around here.” 

“That would be the lavender and mint plants, just over there,” Frank explains, pointing to the patches of purples and dark greens that surround a collection of large stone cherubs. Gerard smiles, obviously impressed. 

They reach the second stone wall in minutes, discussing plants and Gerard’s love of all things green. He speaks briefly about his mother, how she seemed to always have nature on her side in order to produce the most delicious vegetables. Mary plods ahead of them, sneezing all over the lavender, much to Frank’s distain. 

Passed the wall and through the trees, they finally reach the pond. It’s a large pond, framed with a sandy coloured stone similar to the walls that run along and through the gardens. It’s not very deep, probably up to Frank’s knees by now – though it seemed a lot deeper when he was younger. There are quite a few pond fish that call the waters home, but Frank’s not sure how many are left as most seem to fall pray to passing birds (or that one tragic afternoon Mary decided to try out fishing as a new past time). 

Tonight the moonlight catches the ripples as the breeze skims gently over the water’s surface, and the feature appears to be illuminated. Gerard gasps when they stop in front of it. 

“I can see why this is your favourite place,” Gerard says in quiet awe. “It’s stunning.”

Frank sits on the edge of the stone wall and lets Mary’s leash drop to the ground. “It’s peaceful,” he says, and immediately he can feel the serenity of the place wash over him, like he’s in a completely different world. Gerard sits down next to him, close enough that their knees are touching. Frank’s stomach dips. 

“It is peaceful,” Gerard agrees. “Do you come here a lot?” 

Frank sighs, and he doesn’t mean to sound so weighed down. “When I need to stop thinking, I do.” 

“Do you need to stop thinking now?” Gerard asks, sounding somewhat careful in how he does so. 

“No,” Frank states, lips itching to smile as he turns to look directly at Gerard. “I just need to think one thing at a time.” 

Gerard stares at Frank as though he’s in deep contemplation, until moments later he nods in acceptance. “I see,” he says. “And what are you thinking about right now?” 

“About those obstacles you mentioned the other night,” Frank answers, quickly and honestly. 

“What about them?”

“Is my father one of them?” he asks, cold fingertips digging in to the knee of his trousers. 

“Yes,” Gerard says, and though Frank was expecting it, the quick and brutal honesty is still somewhat surprising. 

“Because you think he would disapprove?” Frank suggests and Gerard presses his lips together in thought. 

“Not necessarily that I think he would disapprove, though that is a very strong possibility. It’s more about respect. Your father has done a great deal for my family, and I’m appreciative of it all. He opened up his home to my father and has given me the opportunity to follow when it would have been more plausible to hire someone with far more experience than myself. To be head of staff of an estate such as this, at my age, is almost unheard of.” 

The reservation and concern Gerard holds makes Frank feel nervous, as though he’s about to take back everything he said when Frank has already so clumsily offered himself. 

“And you are worried that by being with me you are disrespecting my father,” Frank says quietly. 

Gerard nods. “Yes, of course,” and before Frank can even hang his head in defeat Gerard’s hand is covering his. “But that doesn’t mean the worry is great enough for me to ignore everything I feel for you.” When Gerard offers Frank a smile, Frank’s nerves dissipate. 

“Everything you feel for me,” Frank repeats and Gerard’s hand squeezes his in response. Frank looks at it before smiling back up at Gerard. “And, what exactly is it you feel for me?” 

The mischievous spark in Frank’s voice is obvious and Gerard smirks knowingly as soon as he catches on to it. He takes in a breath and sits up straight, as though accepting whatever challenge Frank has proposed. 

“Well, I think it’s obvious that I feel happiness, talking to you and just with the simple knowledge that I know you. I feel excitement; I definitely feel excitement whenever I’m near you.” Gerard smiles as he talks and Frank wonders if he knows the effect his words have. “I feel admiration, because you are probably the most intelligent and interesting person I know.” 

“You feel concern for me,” Frank interjects when Gerard pauses. 

Gerard nods. “I do. I believe you’ve spent most of your adult life feeling self conflicted, torn between what you truly want and what will please your father.” 

Frank is stunned in to silence. It’s as though Gerard has lifted the lid in to Frank’s mind and taken out all of his thoughts for reading material. He bites nervously at his lip. 

“But I don’t feel sorry for you and I don’t pity you, because that would be demeaning. I am concerned, as someone who cares a great deal for you, and I want you to be able to confide in me whenever you need.” 

When Frank had asked about Gerard’s feelings, he hadn’t meant for it to take such a serious turn. He suspects Gerard hadn’t meant for this either. Frank takes the hand that’s covered by Gerard’s and slides it on to Gerard’s leg. 

“What else do you feel?” he asks, unable to ignore the way Gerard has visibly tightened under Frank’s touch. He doesn’t know whether to feel apologetic or pleased. 

“Nervous,” Gerard breathes, looking from their hands to Frank’s face. “You make me feel very nervous, but not in the conventional way.” 

Frank licks his lips, they’re cold and dry. “In what way, then?” 

This time Gerard is the one to look mischievous, though those nerves that he’s talking about are still ever present on his face. “In a lustful way,” he says and the word wraps tight around Frank’s gut. 

Frank laughs, nervously. “I believe I know what you mean.” 

Smiling, Gerard brings Frank’s hand to his lips and kisses it. As soon as his lips touch Frank’s skin, the knot in Frank’s stomach uncoils and melts. He’s about to push forward, unable to contain it any longer, but Gerard beats him to it, surging forward and capturing Frank’s mouth. All of a sudden last night seems like last year, and Frank feels as though he’s spent every day missing this kiss. Gerard’s lips are cold like his, but smooth and gentle. He kisses Frank slowly, hand still squeezing Frank’s like he could never let go. 

When the tip of Gerard’s tongue strokes along the roof of Frank’s mouth, it lights a fire directly from Frank’s chest to his groin. He moans quietly, most of the sound lost in Gerard’s mouth, and finds himself wishing Gerard’s hands were as busy as his lips. 

“You are very good at that,” Frank whispers, eyes still closed in fear that opening them will take everything away. He feels Gerard’s lips trail lightly over the corner of his mouth and press in to a smile. 

“It’s easy to do something well when you have good reason to do so,” Gerard replies, and Frank has to kiss him again before he can say anything else. 

Frank never imagined he would have so much trouble parting from a kiss, but he knows they cannot site here forever. With their hands still clasped Frank rests himself against Gerard’s side as he cranes his head back to get a better view of the stars. Maybe in this quiet moment under the cover of night Frank can pretend that they could sit here forever. 

“These obstacles,” Frank begins, “like my father and the concern and the fact that you are head of staff of this house, of my house…are they enough to keep you apart from me?” 

“No,” Gerard says and Frank feels weightless with the fluttering of butterflies in his chest. 

He smiles up at the stars and squeezes Gerard’s hand tighter. “Good.” 

~

Awakened by the sounds of the house in its morning routine and Mary’s fog horn snoring, Frank finds himself still smiling. He blinks against the sunlight and touches his lips gently, as if this will aid the memory of Gerard’s last kiss, quick and promising, before they walked back to the house. 

The smile is still hard to contain at breakfast, leaving Edward with a quizzical expression, though he does not say anything about it. Frank wonders how it came to be that a smile was an odd thing to see from him. He enthuses to Frank about the day ahead of them and Frank grins and nods along. He’s actually excited to be spending the day with his father – it’s definitely something they don’t do enough. 

Gerard appears briefly, bringing them their morning tea and coffee. He engages Edward with the usual friendly chit chat, but remains calm and composed around Frank. Gerard is going to have to teach him how to do that. 

After breakfast they walk to the stable. Mary is disgruntled at not being able to join them, but Gerard soon tempts her to follow him in to the kitchen instead. As they walk, Edward talks about the sun and his love of the outdoors and fresh clean air. He laughs and shakes his head as Frank likens the smell to the scent of a fresh book. 

“My dear boy, I hope you never change,” he says, just as the stable boy Henry appears, arms full of fresh hay. 

“Good morning, Sir. The girls are ready and waiting.”

Edward salutes the young boy. “Excellent, Henry. Thank you.” 

‘The girls’ are their two horses, seven year old Sugar and her daughter, four year old Spice. Sugar was bought for Frank as a gift one Christmas, only the seller had failed to mention that she was pregnant. When Spice was born, Frank was entranced. For months he visited the stables every day to watch the young foal grow, begging his father for every book on horses he could find. 

Now the horses are used mostly for pulling the carriage, but sometimes, on days like today, Henry will saddle them up. 

“Hey, Sugar,” Frank greets as he runs his palm over the head of her nose. The chocolate coloured horse pushes in to the touch. A huffing and stomping from the left makes Frank snort. “Yes, Spice. It’s lovely to see you, too,” he says, reaching out to pet the tan and white horse. 

“You really do have a way with animals,” Edward comments as Henry hands him his riding gear. “I think you’d be an excellent trainer, or even a breeder.” 

Frank hums and takes his riding boots from the top of a pile of old blankets. “It’s definitely something to think about.” 

With his father on Sugar and himself saddled safely on Spice, they trot steadily out of the stable doors. The horses shake their heads in the sunlight, as if enjoying it as much as their riders. It’s warm today, warm and bright. Frank takes a moment to breathe it in. 

“Race you to the stream,” Edward says before quickly digging his heels in to Sugar’s side with a sharp, “Yah!” 

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Frank calls, ushering Spice to follow the sounds of Edward’s manic laughter. 

It’s not a long ride to the stream, not when you’re travelling by galloping horse. A few minutes later and Frank’s steadying Spice back in to a trot. Edward’s already dismounted by the time they reach him and is yawning lazily as Frank guide’s Spice to the same tree her mother is tied to. 

“You both took your time. Sugar and I have been waiting quite a while, haven’t we girl? We thought you might have gotten yourself lost,” he smirks. 

“Oh, ha, ha,” says Frank sarcastically as he lowers himself back on to the ground. “That was only because you cheated. Spice and I will take the moral victory.” 

Edward laughs before cuffing his son gently ‘round the side of the head. “You are still a smart mouthed little rascal, aren’t you?” 

“Exactly the way you raised me,” Frank replies, smartly. 

Edward grins and then lunges for his son. Frank yelps, surprised, and rounds the tree the horses are tied to. Edward doesn’t give up easily, and is quickly following, and almost matching, Frank’s every stride. 

“You will never catch me, old man,” Frank calls back. “You may have experience but I have youth.”

“And a smart mouth!” Edward calls as he starts to lag. Frank laughs, shouting nonsense as he leaps around the tree time and time again. 

Finally, Edward gives up, collapsing in to a shady spot. Frank joins him quickly, smug in victory. 

“You still move well considering you are round and grey,” Frank says, and Edward makes one last lunge to grab Frank’s ear and tug at it sharply. Frank shrieks. 

“Ouch!” 

“Smart mouth,” Edward smirks. 

They rest for a little while longer before mounting their horses again and taking off through the gardens. They ride around the land for another hour or so, talking and laughing and racing on and off. 

After a while they pick a spot, closer to the house to set up their picnic. Annie has packed them a picnic big enough to feed a family, full of cheese and fresh bread and meat. After a morning of racing around in the heat of a warm day, Frank is absolutely starving. 

“You know I only want what’s best for you, don’t you?” Edward says and Frank looks up, confused, from his food. The question is rather out of nowhere, and Frank is taken aback by its seriousness. 

“Of course,” he nods. “Why do you ask?”

Edward sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I go on to much, and other times I wonder if I go on enough. I don’t want to be forceful and inconsiderate of your feelings, like I’ve seen so many fathers do over the years, but I don’t want you to get lost, either.” 

Frank smiles kindly at his father. “You are a wonderful father, possibly an even better father than you are an architect.”

“Thank you,” Edward laughs softly. “I’m glad you think so. I suppose that maybe I’m feeling guilty for taking on this project. It seems as though you are alone an awful lot, and I can’t help but feel as though I abandon you.” 

“Father, I’m hardly a child. Besides, it’s rather difficult to be lonely in a house of twenty staff, wouldn’t you say?” he mocks playfully. 

Edward pinches his fingers as if heading for Frank’s ear again and Frank covers it with his hand instinctively. Edward chuckles. “I suppose you’re right. I know you’ll find your way eventually. You have my upbringing and your mother’s determination – not to mention her kind heart and her smile.” Frank smiles instantly. “That’s the one,” Edward winks. 

After a lazy lunch, more talking and a little dozing, they walk the horses back on foot to the stables. 

Back at the house, Mary greets them excitedly at the door. She rolls over on to Frank’s feet, presenting her belly and wiggling her fat little legs. Frank grins, reaching down to tickle the podgy dog, choosing to ignore his father’s mocking taunts. 

Just before dinner, a visitor arrives. It’s someone Frank has never seen before, but he looks remarkably similar to his father. Edward apologises to Frank before scurrying off to a private room to talk their private business. Frank’s doesn’t mind. He’d rather throw his feet up on to the table in front and sip at brandy whilst no one’s around. 

After dinner, Edward excuses himself to his room for an early night. 

“Lots to do tomorrow,” he says, clamping a hand over Frank’s shoulder as he passes. “I very much enjoyed today.”

“I enjoyed it too,” Frank smiles and Edward cuffs him lightly on the jaw. 

“Goodnight, you little rascal.” 

~

With the house winding down for the evening and no signs of Gerard, Frank quickly finds himself bored. Too jittery with the energy of a day in the sun to sit and read, he does the only thing he can do and heads straight for the staff corridor. 

Gerard, surprisingly, is already in his room for the evening. His lamp is on; its low glow covering Gerard’s shirted back like warm honey. Frank taps on the doorframe softly and Gerard starts. When he turns, Frank can see the smears of paint over his fingers and wrists, deep greens and purples. He’s working on the house painting. 

Smiling kindly, Gerard lowers his brush and turns slightly in his chair. As his bare feet and legs slip in to the light, Frank’s tongue suddenly feels too big for his mouth. He’s never actually seen Gerard in anything other than his pristine work clothes, so to have him here, paint smeared and half dressed in flickering lamp light is something like a scene from a book that Frank is positive he’s read before. 

“Frank,” Gerard says softly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until breakfast.” 

Frank steps cautiously in to the room, aware of every creaking floorboard. He presses the door closed, holding his breath until he hears it click shut. 

“I suppose I just couldn’t stay away,” he says, smiling sheepishly as he makes his way to perch on the edge of Gerard’s bed. When he looks up again, Gerard is grinning. “Is it almost done?” Frank asks, desperate for a change of subject. 

For a second Gerard looks confused before the realisation hits and he glances back at the painting. “Almost. Perhaps another hour or so, just to add detail.”

Frank tilts his head, studying the picture. “It looks quite detailed to me.” 

“There are just a few more things to add, small things but they are incredibly important. There’s moss to add on the stone work, just here, and the crumbling of the older stone, just by the roof.” 

“Well,” Frank nods. “I think it would be fair to say that you are somewhat of a perfectionist.”

Gerard laughs. “Yes, I think so too. It’s a necessary quality in my line of work.” 

“To notice every detail?” 

“To know that every detail is important,” Gerard explains. He turns back to the painting, adds one more stroke of green and then places the brush in a small cup. “I think that’s enough detail for tonight, though.” 

Frank watches as Gerard crosses the small room, bare feet on creaking boards as he sits on the bed, close. The hem of his shirt rests against his thighs, atop of the underwear the stops just above Gerard’s knees. Frank’s all too aware of how long he’s been quietly studying Gerard; he swallows and tears his gaze away. 

“Hello,” he says, for lack of a better word, and Gerard smiles wide as though Frank’s discomfort pleases him. 

“Hello,” he chuckles back. “How was your day with your father?” 

Just like that, Frank slips in to the easiest of conversations, like he had never forgotten how simple it was to talk to Gerard about even the smallest detail. Gerard smiles as Frank recounts his day, laughing at his and his father’s childish antics. Then, he tells Frank about his own day, about how Annie almost burned down the kitchen with her latest pie adventure and how Mary followed him every step for the whole day. 

“It was strange,” Gerard begins, “to walk by your study and not find you reading. The room looked rather sad without you in it, almost like it missed you.” 

“Missed me?” Frank asks. “I would have thought it would be glad to get rid of me for a while.”

“Well, then. Maybe it was just me who missed seeing you in it,” Gerard says and his smile is small and fragile. Frank blinks slowly, trying to grasp the thought that Gerard missed him. He actually missed him. “I wanted to tell you about this book I read,” Gerard says, cutting off Frank’s thought. 

“Really? What book?”

“I don’t know if you’ve read it before, but it’s quite fantastic. It’s called Carmilla.” 

Glancing upwards and narrowing his eyes in thought, Frank hums for a few moments. “No, I can’t say I’ve read a book of that title.” 

“You should, I think you would enjoy it, though reading it did give me some rather strange dreams.” 

The instant image of a cliff top and pirate captain Gerard makes Frank’s mouth snap quickly shut. Gerard eyes him oddly, head tilted in question as Frank feels his cheeks begin to burn. 

“This is something you know of,” says Gerard, and it’s not a question. In fact, he’s smiling, like he knows all too well. “Sometimes our imaginations reach out and grasp the most peculiar things, though with the way you are blushing I would say that your dream left you less bemused but more frustrated in some other way.” He peers at Frank and it feels like an accusation. 

“I had a dream about you,” Frank says quickly and then blinks, surprised, like he can’t quite believe what he has just admitted. Even Gerard seems a little taken aback. 

“Recently?” he asks, and Frank can’t help but notice how quietly he does so. 

“Not terribly so, no. Before the wedding, anyway.” 

“A frustrating dream?” says Gerard, but it sounds more like he’s trying to clarify with himself. 

Frank nods, sighs and laughs breathily. “A frustrating dream,” he repeats. 

After a moment’s contemplation, Gerard’s lips quirk playfully. “Was it a good book?”

“It was…inspiring,” Frank replies and Gerard laughs. 

Something about the way he laughs, teeth bare and eyes bright, makes the urge to kiss him unbearable. So Frank does, catching him a little off guard (if the quiet gasp is anything to go by.) Just like before Frank sinks in to the kiss, slow and easy, like conversation. Gerard’s fingers ghost lightly over Frank’s face, as if unsure, before finally laying splayed out against his throat. Gerard’s skin is warm against Frank’s neck and he wonders what it would be like to feel Gerard’s lips there. Just the thought makes Frank shudder and he reaches out to hold Gerard’s thigh in order to keep himself grounded. 

Gerard’s hand moves, sliding slowly up the side of Frank’s neck until his fingers are buried in Frank’s hair. As they curl tight they give a little pull and Frank whimpers with want. That line of fire is ignited again and Frank’s hand starts to caress Gerard’s thigh, higher and higher with every touch. Gerard stops kissing and instead presses his forehead against Frank’s and bites at his own bottom lip. Frank watches, curious as to what Gerard will let him do. Now at the top of Gerard’s thigh, Frank lets his hand follow the curve of flesh inwards. Gerard breathes in sharply. 

“Frank,” he keens softly, and with his free hand Frank pulls the shoulder of Gerard’s shirt in to his fist. 

“You’re always so warm,” Frank whispers, fingers kneading Gerard’s flesh, the material of his underwear rough beneath his palm. He slides his hand down to Gerard’s knee and tucks his fingertips beneath the line of the underwear until they’re digging in to soft, bare flesh. Gerard opens his mouth wordlessly. 

“Warm whenever I’m near you,” he soon replies, and just when Frank gets his lips back to Gerard’s mouth a noise in the corridor startles them both. 

Quickly they pull apart, Gerard even standing with his eyes glued to the door. Down the hall, floorboards creak, a distant door opens and closes and then, nothing more. Gerard is breathing heavily and with the heat of the moment evaporated, Frank self consciously draws back in to his inexperienced shell. 

As the moments pass and nothing horrific happens, they decide it best to retire for the night, to their own beds. When Frank stands to leave, Gerard stops him with a hand on his arm. He pulls Frank close and kisses him goodnight, warm, wanting and slow. 

~

Frank hadn’t realised how much of a presence his father was, even if he kept himself locked away working just as much as Frank did reading. The realisation is heavy now though, because even though Frank’s sat back in his study with a well thumbed copy of Mary Shelly’s _Frankenstein_ on his lap, he can’t help but feel like something is missing. 

His father wasn’t at breakfast this morning or the morning before that, or the one before that. He’s eaten breakfast alone for the last five days and, with the other staff busying themselves in and out of the room, has had little time to be with or even talk to Gerard during the day. As usual he slips in to the study to talk to Frank, to smile and make him laugh and feel completely surrounded. But, as usual, the visits are brief. Even with Edward away most of the day, Gerard is still the head of household staff, with a list of tasks as long as he is to complete every single day. 

When the moon rises and the house settles down for the night, that’s the time that Frank loves the most. Often he will catch his father just as he’s wearily climbing the stairs to bed, they’ll talk politely for a few minutes until Edward ruffles his son’s hair, yawns and continues on his quest for rest. Frank waits for the house to still again before creeping his way along the staff corridor. 

In Gerard’s room they talk and kiss. Frank watches Gerard finish the painting, sitting still, stunned with awe as Gerard turns a masterpiece in to something truly exquisite. He’s rather shy about his talent, Frank finds, and doesn’t like to talk about it for too long – though he has no reservation in telling Frank exactly why this house is so perfect to paint. 

For a few nights Gerard visits Frank in his study, sitting in the opposite armchair as they talk and sometimes read. 

“I can’t believe you named your dog after Mary Shelly,” Gerard says one night as he reaches down to tug on Mary’s ear. “I can’t believe I hadn’t realised before now. I should have guessed you would have a love for that book.”

Frank smiles fondly as Mary grunts and nuzzles in to Gerard’s hand. “Have you read it?”

Gerard sits back, despite Mary’s protests. “Once or twice. I’ve been attracted to tales of creatures of the night since I was little.” 

“Monster stories are my personal favourite,” Frank says as he runs his fingertips over the spine of the book. “Though you’ve probably noticed that I will read just about anything.”

Gerard laughs. “Yes, I had noticed. I remember my father telling me when this room was made in to your study. He told me about the bookcases that reached the stars, filled with every book ever written.” 

“This was originally supposed to be a room for my mother,” Frank says softly. “It was left empty until they discovered I had a passion for stories, and then my father turned it in to what you see here. He used to sit in here with me when I was little. I’d pick a book and we’d read it, together. I know he doesn’t share my love of literature. That was definitely something I got from my mother, he said.”

“But he still read with you,” says Gerard and Frank nods solemnly. 

“For her, I think.”

“Your father would do anything for your mother, and for you. This house is evidence of that.” 

There’s a very small and very sad smile on Frank’s face as he glances out of the window to the full moon and the bruise blue sky. 

“That was the first story he ever told me when I was little. He told me of a young man who fell in love with the most beautiful woman in the world. After they were married, she wanted more than anything to have the perfect home to raise the perfect family, and so he spent years building her one. She and their future family inspired every room of the house, from the dining room where they would eat and entertain to the bedrooms where they would sleep and dream. The garden was filled with all of her favourite flowers and the rooms decorated in her favourite colours. Finally, when the house was finished, they filled it with staff and treasures, ready to start their family and live happily every after.” Frank pauses, sucks in a deep breath and turns back to Gerard. His eyes are wet, and the way Gerard’s face fixes itself with a look of utter heartbreak tells Frank the pain on his own face is obvious. 

“When the woman became pregnant, they were both the happiest people in the world. Everything they had ever wanted was finally coming true. Unfortunately, when the baby was born, the woman didn’t survive, leaving her husband and her baby boy behind. Grief stricken, the husband locked himself away, refusing to even look at his new son who did nothing but remind him of the love he had lost. Finally, with the help of friends old and new, he began to see the beauty of life again. He accepted that his love was gone, but now he had another reason to live. He had a son, their son, who he loved more than anything. So the husband vowed to spend the rest of his life protecting and providing for him, in hopes he would grow in to the man his father and mother would have wanted him to become.” 

There’s a moment of silence that feels as though it stretches on for an age, like the world has been stopped. It’s not until the first tear hits the book in Frank’s lap that Gerard moves. He crosses the space between them quickly, kneeling in front of Frank and clasping both of his hands in his. 

“Frank,” he says, and it sounds desperate. “You are every bit the man they wanted you to be.”

Frank smiles and sniffles and shakes his head. “I have a very hard time believing that,” he whispers. 

“But you shouldn’t,” Gerard urges. “You are such a wonderful person. You’re kind and compassionate and friendly, to everyone. Building your life around books does not make you a disappointment. You probably know more about the world than anyone. You’ve taught yourself how to be the most amazing kind of man. You’re so open minded and forgiving and you are so caring and loving that to be the person who feels it, is almost overwhelming.” 

Frank reaches out, stroking Gerard’s face with his palm. He can feel his heart beating, thudding in his chest like it’s about to stop. Gerard’s eyes fall briefly closed as Frank’s thumb presses against his cheekbone. “Is it overwhelming that I love you?” Frank whispers and Gerard’s eyes quickly snap open. 

Unsure of what Gerard’s reply will be, Frank waits nervously for an agonising moment until finally, Gerard surges up to capture Frank’s mouth in a kiss that instantly robs the breath from his chest. The kiss is hurried, desperate and deep, Gerard’s fingers pushing and pressing in to every bit of exposed skin he can find, hands, arms, face and neck. Frank gasps because it’s almost too much and surely, like he can read thoughts, Gerard slows in to soft, long and languid kisses. 

It’s the most definitive reply Frank’s ever heard. 

~ 

Frank is surprised but nothing less than delighted to find his father sitting at the breakfast table. When Frank sits down Edward grins. 

“Good morning, son!” he enthuses happily. 

Frank laughs. “Good morning, father. You’re in a pleasant mood.” 

“Well, why wouldn’t I be? It’s a lovely day and I’m able to enjoy a wonderful breakfast with my favourite person.” 

Frank eyes him oddly, still smiling. “Are you unwell?” he says. 

Edward barks out a laugh. “It’s a wonder what a good night’s sleep can do for a man, that and a lunch time start at the firm.” 

The door swings open and Gerard enters, as usual, with the tray of tea and coffee. “I thought I heard your laugh, sir. Good morning, it’s nice to see you.”

“It’s wonderful to see you too, Gerard. Tell me, has my son been behaving himself while I’ve been busy?” 

Frank stomach hits the floor and it’s a good thing that his father is facing away from him, otherwise he would see Frank’s face flood with panic. Gerard does see it, though, but instead of reacting he gives Edward a bright smile. “A model gentleman, as always,” he replies. 

Edward laughs and throws a napkin at Frank’s head. “Have you been bribing the staff again?” 

“Again?” Frank rolls his eyes. “Father, that was fifteen years ago and I offered Mrs. Meredith a piece of my cake if she didn’t tell you it was me who had broken one of the crystal glasses.” 

“That sounds like bribery to me; don’t you think so, Gerard?” 

Gerard sets the tea and coffee pots down, smiling playfully at Frank and then Edward. “I believe that is the definition of bribery, Sir.” 

Frank fixes Gerard with a stern look as he leaves, but Gerard seems unfazed and even gives Frank a little wave before he disappears. 

“There is actually a reason I was given half of the day off,” Edward begins to explain, and the seriousness on his face tells Frank he’s not going to like it. “I’m going away for a short time, travelling across the next few towns to pick up the additional help the mayor has requested. I won’t be gone long, three or four days at most.”

“When do you leave?” Frank asks. 

“In the morning,” Edward replies and Frank blinks, surprised. “I know it’s soon. I was only informed myself last night. You’ll be alright, won’t you?”

Frank sighs. “Yes, father. I’ll be perfectly fine. You don’t have to worry about me. I think I’m definitely old enough to run this house responsibly.” 

~

The next morning, after waving his father goodbye, Frank tells Annie to inform the staff that they have the day off. With pay. Annie gapes at Frank for a few moments before nodding frantically and scurrying away. 

Most of the staff have family in town, and Frank arranges transport for everyone who requires it, instructing them to be home by tomorrow lunch. It’s only Henry, the stable boy, one of the gardeners and several of the maids that live too far to travel, so instead Frank invites them to either explore the town with the others or to make themselves comfortable in the house. The most important part of this deal is to not mention anything to Edward and to have the house running normally by the time he returns. The staff agree eagerly and disappear quickly, one by one. 

Gerard is leaning against the back wall of the dining room, arms crossed and smirking as he watches his colleagues flee. He looks at Frank with a mixture of amusement and disbelief, shaking his head as the room empties. 

“Is this you responsibly running the house?” he asks. “Or do you have some ulterior motive?” 

Frank smirks smugly back, stepping closer until they are just a meter or so apart. “Why, it’s almost as if you don’t trust me, Mr. Way.” 

Gerard shakes his head again. “Not with that look on your face, _Sir_.” 

The way he rolls that last word pulls something inside of Frank and he has the strongest of urges to kiss Gerard right there against the dining room wall. He doesn’t. though, no matter how tempting it is. He can still hear the staff scurrying about the place. 

“I wanted to take this opportunity to show you the rest of the gardens, in daylight. I’ve asked Annie to pack a picnic, and with the majority of the staff otherwise occupied, we’ll have the grounds to ourselves.” 

Gerard looks surprised, more than anything, and Frank is about to insist that Gerard does not have to accompany him when he smiles and nods. 

“I’d love to,” he says. “I’ll just go change and wait for the staff to leave.” 

~

It takes precisely half an hour for the staff to climb in to their carriages. Frank is impressed, though he’d expected quicker. Annie lays the picnic basket by Frank’s feet, winks and tells him to have a lovely day. 

“Thank you, Annie. Will you be joining the others?” Frank asks. 

“No, I’m afraid not. My family are away visiting sick relatives,” she explains.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Annie smiles kindly and shakes her head. “Thank you, but I’m sure I’ll have a lovely time here. I was going to read in my room and write some letters.” 

“Please don’t feel the need to stay locked in your room. I’m sure you would be much more comfortable in the parlour.”

“Thank you, Frank. I will definitely keep that in mind.” 

Not long after Annie has wandered back inside, Gerard appears at the top of the stairs. His ‘casual’ attire doesn’t differ greatly from his work wear, and Frank wonders if he even has it in him to dress as though he doesn’t care. His shirt is rolled to the elbows, waistcoat unbuttoned and trousers a little loose. He still looks impeccable, as though it is he who is the man of the house out for a relaxing stroll in the garden. 

Frank walks them down the front of the gardens this time, around another water feature and down the paths that weave through the larger flowerbeds like a wall-less maze. With each new piece of garden they discover, Frank tells Gerard what he knows. Gerard listens and converses eagerly about colours and seasons and the wealth of nature. 

A few more flower mazes and a long stretch of freshly cut, empty land, they reach the point where the trees grow high and wide. They’re not too close together, so it’s easy to find their way through the field of giant trunks and low hanging branches, and it’s not long before Frank spots their destination. 

The stream that runs alongside the house is small and slow flowing, not enough of it to be home to anything more than the occasional frog or passing birds. Frank could probably cross the whole thing in five strides, but it’s still a beautiful and secluded site. The last time he was here with his father, not long ago, he had noted that this would be a perfect place to bring Gerard. 

Gerard seems impressed. He stands at the edge of the stream and takes in a deep breath. 

“This is just perfect,” he says. “It feels like a little paradise.” 

The sun shines through in warm patches between the trees, and Frank finds a lightly shaded spot by one of the tree trunks. He pulls the blanket from the basket and stretches it out across the grass. When he turns back to Gerard, he’s looking at him with a raised brow and a smile. 

“How long have you had this planned?” he asks, walking closer. 

Frank crawls on to the blanket and lies back, propping himself up with his elbows. “Since yesterday morning,” he says. “I knew I wanted to empty the house, but I wasn’t sure for what. And then, last night, you started talking about that gardening book I gave you, and I couldn’t think of anything better than this.” 

Gerard sinks to his knees, shuffling to Frank’s side. “You chose well,” he says, leaning over Frank to kiss him quickly before rolling on to his back. The loss of lips is disappointing. 

Frank kicks off his shoes and pulls off his socks, pressing his feet in to the cool grass. Gerard quickly does the same. As they lay there, Frank’s hand ventures across the blanket until it covers Gerard’s, whose skin is warm to touch. Gerard turns his hand palm upwards, and carefully laces their fingers together. 

“You’re nervous,” Gerard states suddenly. 

Frank swallows. “I am?”

“Your hands are clammy and you are very quiet,” he explains.

Frank’s head turns to face him. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. 

“Don’t be,” says Gerard, squeezing Frank’s hand lightly. 

With a deep breath, Frank closes his eyes briefly before opening them again. “Sometimes I forget that I haven’t done this before.” 

“Held hands?”

“No, well, obviously I’ve held a hand before, though not for a while. I was talking about what our held hands represents.”

Gerard glances down at their hands. “Trust, comfort, love?”

“Precisely,” Frank nods. 

“Well know you are not alone. I too have not held a hand before to show love.”

Frank slides a little closer. “Never?”

Gerard shakes his head. “Never. I’ve been close for other explanations - curiosity and lust being the main ones.” 

Frank swallows again, torn between needing to know and never wanting to. “With other men?” he finally says. 

Gerard nods and Frank isn’t sure what to feel. 

“My home town is small but next to a port. There are many travellers who pass through from every corner of the world. Whenever I could I would walk by the docks and watch the ships sail in and out. Sometimes a traveller would approach me, enquire about the local Inn. It was as if they could see it, like an invisible mark.” 

“How often were you with them?” Frank asks, stomach swirling with curiosity and something that feels a lot like jealousy. 

“Not as often as your mind is telling you,” Gerard replies, and Frank instantly feels foolish. “I was curious mostly. For so long it seemed as though there wasn’t anyone else who thought like me. And then there was, and they each told me stories of their experiences and all the others they had met who thought like us. I began to feel less alone.” 

“When were you last with them?” 

“A year or so ago. After I found a job working for the same manor as my brother, I wasn’t home all that often.” 

Frank is quiet. He isn’t so naive that he doesn’t know anything about the physical side of relationships, he’s read enough and heard enough conversations amongst the young men to build himself a clear enough picture. It’s not as though he detested the thought of being with a woman or even that he had previously found men attractive – he had never thought about any person that way before or had the desire to find out. Now, though, after hearing Gerard talk, he feels extremely inexperienced. 

“You are thinking far too loudly,” Gerard says softly. “There is no need to worry, not with me,” and he gives Frank’s hand another squeeze. 

“I just wish,” Frank starts and then pauses to take a breath. “I just wish there were a book I could read to tell me everything I need to know, to answer every question and fear I have, even the irrational ones.” 

“No fear is irrational,” Gerard says quickly and the pushes himself up on to his side, hand sliding out of Frank’s to prop his head up. “But I must reiterate, you have no need to fear me or my past. You are as new to me as I am to you.” 

As he leans over, Frank reaches up to touch Gerard’s face with his fingertips. “You don’t feel that new to me,” Frank explains, smiling. “You feel rather familiar.” 

Frank’s smile is returned and Gerard dips to kiss him. Not to willing to let Gerard pull away this time, Frank slides his arms around his back and holds him close, kissing him anyway he wants until their growling stomachs interrupt. 

They unpack the picnic and devour its contents between bouts of conversation. Gerard makes Frank laugh with his impressions of the staff, and when he does so Gerard beams triumphantly. After lunch they dip their bare feet in to the cold stream, and the mischievous child inside of Frank cannot resist the temptation to splash an unsuspecting Gerard. 

“Why, you terrible little-” says Gerard as reaches in to the stream to propel a small wave of water over Frank. 

The childish game continues until they are both soaked. They drag themselves back to the blanket to dry out in the sun, interrupting themselves with immature giggles and breathless kisses. 

~

When they get back the house is eerily quiet. If the other staff are around, it’s not anywhere on the first floor. Even Mary appears to have wandered off somewhere, which is mildly worrying. 

Frank invites Gerard in to the games room, promising tuition on how to play the wonderful game of snooker. However, it’s not until Gerard breaks first and pots two balls in the first shot that he informs Frank of the games room in the last house he worked for.

Annie finds them an hour later, on her way to begin preparing dinner for the remaining staff. She offers to make food for them too and Frank accepts, though insists he will acquire the meal himself and that room service is not needed until tomorrow lunch. 

Gerard, it turns out, has a rather competitive side, and he does not look happy when Frank wins two of the three games. He even goes as far as demanding a rematch, as he’s positive he saw Frank cheat on the last game. Frank protests but eventually complies, and decides that instead of complaining he’ll use this opportunity to be as distracting as possible (which mostly involves standing very close indeed to Gerard as he bends over to take his shot). 

With Gerard unable to concentrate but unwilling to make Frank stop, they decide on a tie before parting to wash up for dinner.

~

In his room, Frank dips his hands in to the bowl of cold water and splashes it over his face. He feels like picking up the whole thing and tipping it over his body. Being in such close proximity to Gerard for a whole day, and spending much of that time touching or kissing or wanting to touch and kiss, has sent Frank’s senses in to overdrive. He briefly contemplates locking the door and relieving himself, but quickly thinks otherwise as he scolds himself for having little self control. 

He dries his face and hands quickly before unbuttoning his shirt. A day in the sun, a dip in the stream and a round of snooker has left him feeling like his clothes have been pasted on to his body. The shirt is half was down his shoulders when there’s a knock at his door. 

“Yes?” he calls, but he’s sure he already knows who’s behind it. 

“It’s me,” Gerard says and Frank quickly slides the shirt back up.

“Come in.” 

Gerard enters in the same clothes. He’s carrying a book, one that looks tattered and old, bulking out under the weight of all the bits of loose paper shoved between the actual pages. Frank eyes it curiously, perching himself on the edge of his bed. 

“This is for you,” Gerard says as he sits himself next to Frank, who can’t help but notice that Gerard seems rather nervous. 

Frank smiles. “Really? What is it?” he asks, peering at the book in Gerard’s grasp to search for a title, but there doesn’t appear to be one. 

“Do you remember when I told you about those travellers, and the stories they shared with me?” Frank nods slowly. “Well, I made it an early habit of writing each one down. A few of them even insisted they write it themselves. It’s their memories, their experiences and there’s some poetry written in there also. I know this isn’t going to tell you everything you ever wanted to know, but it’s a rather good place to start.” 

Frank doesn’t know what to say as Gerard slides the book on to his lap. He covers it with his hand, fingers splaying around the worn edges. 

“Gerard,” he whispers. “Why would you give this to me?” 

“Because I know reading comforts you. Books are your safe place, and I don’t like to think that there is something in this world, something to do with me, that distresses you.” 

Frank places the book ever so gently on the nightstand. “You don’t cause me distress,” he states honestly. “In fact it’s quite the opposite. My only fear,” Frank stops, cheeks reddening, but he quickly forces the words out of his mouth. “My only fear is that I won’t be able to please you.” 

Gerard huffs out a short laugh of disbelief. “ _That_ is what worries you so?” Frank nods, not wanting to look up at Gerard, but he doesn’t get much choice about it when Gerard’s hand slides up his neck, tilting his face upwards. He presses a chaste kiss to Frank’s lips. “I don’t ever want you to worry about not pleasing me,” Gerard instructs. 

“I’m sorry,” Frank says and Gerard sighs. 

“And please, stop being sorry,” he pauses to press another kiss. “You shouldn’t apologise for your feelings, but you should speak to me about them. And just so you know, you do please me.” Gerard bites his lip and smiles, this time his cheeks growing pinched with pink. “You have pleased me. Or, well, the thought of you.” 

Frank’s breath stops half way up his throat, but even so he manages to whimper. The self control he’s been practicing most of the day is quickly weakening, tightening in his gut like it’s ready to snap at any given moment. The next moment, it does, and Frank surges forward the minuet space between them and drags Gerard in to a messy kiss. 

Wrapping both of his hands around one of Gerard’s, Frank guides it to his shoulder, placing it under his shirt and urging the hand forward. Gerard stills momentarily, staring at Frank with question until Frank nods. He slides the shirt down Frank’s arms, fingertips following the material, ghosting over Frank’s skin. 

Frank pushes himself up to the head of the bed and Gerard is quick to follow. He looks just as uncertain as Frank feels, which pleases Frank more than he would care to admit. He tugs Gerard down atop of him, and the feel of another person pressed fully against his body, warm and hard, is something Frank isn’t going to forget in a hurry. He kisses Gerard again, hands busy pulling Gerard’s shirt untucked from his trousers. 

“Steady,” Gerard whispers, pulling back to stare down at Frank with red, kiss bitten lips. Frank feels more impatient than ever. 

“What if I don’t want to?” Frank asks, playful but still expecting an answer. 

Gerard looks as though he’s torn between two thoughts and Frank’s about to ask when Gerard disappears down the bed. 

“What are you doing? I wasn’t finished kissing-” Frank quickly falls silent when Gerard undoes his trousers and pulls them open. “Oh,” he breathes. 

“I want to,” Gerard says and then stops like he’s lost the words. He looks up to Frank as though he’ll have them. Frank swallows hard. 

“Alright,” he whispers, and no sooner has the word left his mouth Gerard is sliding the front of his underwear down and taking Frank’s hardening cock in to his mouth. “Oh, oh god,” Frank whines, falling back against the pillows. 

Gerard’s mouth is wet and warm and nothing short of extraordinary as he slowly envelopes Frank’s dick. His hands pin Frank’s hips before he can even think to move them, long fingers splayed out over soft hipbones. It’s strange and new, Frank can feel the tip of Gerard’s tongue dragging up and down his length and it’s so wonderfully absurd that Frank has to shut his eyes, just to concentrate on breathing. 

When one of Gerard’s hands moves to wrap his long fingers around Frank, it feels as though all restraint is being squeezed out of him, practically forcing him to lose himself. Frank dares to open his eyes, and when he looks down he finds Gerard staring back at him with such intensity, tousled hair hanging down over his eyes as he wraps his lips around Frank again. 

Frank closes his eyes. He can barely take it. There’s a fire coursing through his body and all he wants to do is let go. Thighs burning and heart racing, Frank turns to press his face in to his pillow, moaning Gerard’s name in to the fabric. Gerard tongues quickly over the head of Frank’s cock and then it’s one, two, three more strokes until Frank is letting go, with only a stutter of the hips as warning. Frank digs his fingers so tight against the pillow that it feels like they’ll pierce through, but it’s the only thing he can do to stop himself from shouting. 

Gasping away from the stifling air of the pillow, Frank turns again. 

“Gerard,” he whispers, though he has nothing more to say. 

Gerard kneels over Frank, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before lying down to prop himself against Frank’s side. He takes Frank’s hand and kisses it as Frank stares at Gerard like he really can’t quite believe what has just happened. 

“Are you alright?” Gerard enquires softly. It takes Frank another moment or so to move, but when he does he uses all of his weight to push himself up. Instantly he reaches for Gerard’s trousers. 

When Gerard’s hand grabs his wrist to stop him, Frank bats him away. 

“I want to,” he says. 

“Frank, you don’t-”

“I know I don’t, but I want to.” Frank’s aware of how desperate he sounds and it must be that which makes Gerard pull his hand away. Frank smiles and, as soon as there is room, pushes his hand inside Gerard’s trousers. He takes a firm hold of Gerard’s dick, squeezing lightly until Gerard keens. 

It’s not that different from touching himself, just mirrored, and the thought that Frank might actually know what to do boosts his confidence. He begins to stroke Gerard, soft at first but then a little more erratic as he tightens his grip. Frank’s trousers are still around his thighs, tugging awkwardly between his skin and the sheets, but he shifts the best he can to give himself more room to jerk Gerard. 

Gerard’s hand grabs Frank’s bare arm, long fingers wrapping around the muscle as he gasps out, sounding almost pained. When Frank softens in fear of hurting Gerard, Gerard shakes his head frantically. 

“No – don’t stop. Please, Frank, don’t-” he breathes, moaning again when Frank speeds up. 

Frank can’t take his eyes off the way Gerard’s mouth hangs open or how his eyebrows furrow when Frank squeezes just so. His arm is beginning to ache, muscles burning in his forearm as the ones in his thighs did just before release. He won’t stop or even slow, because Gerard is biting his lip and shaking all over like he’s about to lose control. 

It doesn’t take long before he does, spilling over Frank’s hand in thick white spurts. Frank wipes his hands on the sheets and quietly waits for Gerard to recover. 

When he does, he sighs dreamily and smiles up at Frank. 

“You are never to worry about not pleasing me, ever again.” 

Frank blushes and laughs.

~

By the time Edward returns, the house has been back in its usual routine for near two days. Frank feels unreservedly jittery around his father, in fear that he’s somehow going to be able to tell what Frank did, both in the house and in his bedroom. It’s like the invisible mark that Gerard mentioned, and Frank wonders if it has now transferred to himself. 

“Frank, my boy, we are having a great gathering,” Edward announces a few days after his return. Frank’s stomach fills with terror. He finds the most mundane social situations awkward at the best of times, and one of his father’s _secretly try to get my son talking to a potential wife_ balls has got to be Frank’s idea of a nightmare. He’s been suffering through at least two a year since he turned eighteen. 

“Father,” he protests. “Must we?” 

Edward rolls his eyes as he sips his tea patiently. “Calm down, Frank. Believe it or not the main object of this gathering doesn’t have anything to do with you – though it would be quite nice if you took on this social opportunity to make some friends that aren’t four legged, fictional or employment.”

Frank scowls. “I happen to like my friends.” He sounds bitter even though he knows his father does not know the weight of his words. 

“And I am truly happy this house is a place you love and that you enjoy spending time here, but an adventure that takes place outside of the gates wouldn’t be so terrible. Anyway, we are digressing. The party is for the new comers to the town. It was actually the mayor’s idea and he will be attending, so you will be present and you will be dressed for the occasion,” Edward instructs, eyeing Frank’s crumpled waistcoat and the biscuit crumbs that litter his collar. 

Sighing, Frank sinks further in to his seat like a displeased child. “Yes, father,” he says obediently, at least grateful that his father will be busy with important company rather than finding him a wife. 

~

“But I thought your father threw the best balls in town,” Gerard is saying, perched on the edge of Frank’s desk. 

Frank scowls in to his coffee. “Well, yes, but that’s not the point.” 

Gerard crosses his arms, smiling smugly at Frank’s immature posture. “Then what is? You said this wasn’t a party where the aim is to find you a wife.” 

“It’s not. Well, he says it’s not, but I know him. He won’t be able to resist!” Frank scrubs a hand through his unkempt hair. “I detest parties.” 

Gerard shrugs. “I was always under the impression that parties were fun – music, dancing, champagne and exquisite food…that sounds like a lovely time.” 

Frank huffs. “Well, then, why don’t you go?” 

“I am going,” Gerard says, “I’ll be working.” 

Instantly Frank feels like a royal fool. He sets his coffee down and pulls himself in to a more adult position. 

“My father is going to expect me to do all those lovely things with people I don’t really like all that much. I’m going to spend the entire evening talking to women who have more interest in marrying in to my name than me myself, and all I’m going to be thinking about is how I wish I could do all those lovely things with you.”

Gerard face falls from amusement to empathy before letting out a long, defeated sigh. “I’ll make sure to keep an eye on you and tell the rest of the staff to do the same. If we see you looking particularly uncomfortable, I’ll request a word with you due to some catastrophe in the kitchen or something about Mary falling down a well.”

Frank laughs and quickly Gerard smiles. 

“Alright. I suppose that doesn’t sound too awful.” 

Gerard grips the edges of the desk and glances out of the window before looking back at Frank. “And know that I too will spend the evening wishing we could do all those lovely things.” 

~

For the next few days, Frank doesn’t get many chances to see Gerard, let alone be with him just the two of them. The planning for the great ball is in full swing, and with Edward busy at the firm, he’s left the entire organisation on Gerard’s already weighed down shoulders. Not wanting to disappoint his father, Frank can see Gerard is letting the pressure drive him slowly insane. 

One evening after creeping down the staff corridor, Frank finds Gerard already asleep, still fully clothed and atop of the sheets. He looks purely exhausted and, no matter how lonely Frank’s been all day, he can’t bare to wake him. 

This continues for the next two nights and, by the third, Frank is starting to get irritated. He’d left to find Gerard, but found his room empty. Upon return to his study he finds Gerard asleep in his armchair, chin tucked in to his chest and dark hair stringing messily over his closed eyes. Frank smiles. At least he made the effort, and that has got to count for something. He nudges Gerard awake with quick kisses to his face. Gerard returns them sleepily, blinking at Frank as they pull apart before smiling. Frank sends him to bed, insisting no apology is needed. 

Perhaps the only decent thing about Gerard being too tired for their evening visits is that Frank gets time alone, hidden in the silence of night, to begin making his way through Gerard’s book. It takes him a fair while to even open the book, and for almost an hour he lets it sit staring at him mockingly from the desk. He doesn’t know if it’s curiosity or fear of the unknown that makes him reach out, but soon he’s snatching the book up and flipping it open quickly, before he can think twice. 

The first entry he reads is the story of an Irish man and his quotes on sailing the harsh seas of the world, of god and faith and the feel of a young man’s supple flesh beneath his hands. Frank spends an anxious few moments deciphering if he is talking about Gerard, but when he mentions tanned skin and thick stubble, Frank sighs in relief. He reads the next entry with caution, (this one in Gerard’s hand writing about a conversation with a south American man that lasted the better part of the night) not sure if an entry about some other man touching Gerard in the way he has will intrigue or sicken him. He’s only a few more pages in when he decides he can’t continue, not tonight, even though he’s found the confusion and confidence of others somewhat reassuring. He’s not sure if it’s what he expected, but then he’s not exactly sure what is was he was expecting. Maybe detailed diagrams or step by step instructions, like a recipe almost, on how one man loves another. Maybe that is yet to come. 

Frank hides the book behind several others in the depths of his library. 

~

The ball arrives with much anticipation and Frank wonders if he is, in fact, the only person in the household not looking forward to it. The only bright side he can see is that its beginning signifies its ending, and the continuation of his and Gerard’s evenings. They still haven’t managed to see each other all that much and when they have, Gerard only has the energy left in him for an enthusiastic peck on the mouth. The absence of touch and the memory of that evening in Frank’s room has made Frank extremely frustrated over the last week, and there is only so much satisfaction his own hands can bring – now that he knows what Gerard’s feel like. 

Frank dresses in the same suit his father had ordered for Sebastian’s wedding, and even though Edward had tried persistently to get Frank to allow him to order in something special, Frank he declined. 

“You don’t think it makes the family appear cheap to wear the same suit for two occasions, do you?” Frank asks as Gerard laces the first of his glisteningly clean black dress shoes. 

Gerard looks up but his nimble fingers continue. “Why? Is that what your father said?”

Frank shakes his head and looks at himself in one of the several full length mirrors in the dressing room. “No, not exactly.”

“But you worry that’s what everyone else will think?” Gerard suggests. Frank says nothing. “I don’t think anyone will notice. If I’m being perfectly honest most of the men’s wear looks identical. Just be thankful you’re not a woman. My job would be a lot trickier if I had to lace you up in a corset every morning.”

Frank winces. “I don’t think I fancy that much, no. It’s just, image may not mean a lot to me but I know it does to my father. He has spent years building his reputation.” 

“Frank,” Gerard sighs. “You are not going to ruin your father’s reputation, not with a previously worn suit or anything else that’s in your mind.” 

Frank knows that’s technically not true and he knows that Gerard knows it too. Never the less, he appreciates the attempt at reassurance. 

“I could always lace those up myself,” says Frank. Gerard’s brow quirks with amusement. 

“I have seen you button a waistcoat. If I let you anywhere near these shoes then I fear your father’s reputation really would be in danger.” 

Glaring playfully, Frank accepts the now impeccably laced and cleaned dress shoes. Once he’s put these on it’s just a matter of the jacket, and then he’s ready for his entrance. 

The party has already been in full swing for near an hour and Frank had to practically drag Gerard away from ordering the kitchen staff about, insisting he required Gerard’s eye for detail to help him dress, when really they both knew it was about Frank’s desire to press Gerard against the closed door of the dressing room and kiss him until there wasn’t enough air left in the room. 

They hadn’t quite managed that sort of kiss, they were perhaps half way there when Gerard had batted Frank away and started fussing with his untucked shirt. 

Now Frank is fully dressed and he looks just as dashing as he did the day of the wedding. He remembers having Gerard so close and smiles when Gerard steps forward to brush his hands down the sleeves of Frank’s jacket. This time, he pecks Frank’s cheek quickly and whispers, “Positively edible.” 

Frank only hopes the women downstairs don’t think the same. 

~

Gerard is called back in to the kitchens as soon as they step back out in to the corridor. As Annie ushers him away she turns to Frank and points to the stairs. 

“Your father has been looking for you for fifteen minutes,” she says before waving her pointed finger about and exclaiming, “Scoot!”

Frank quickly does as told. 

It takes several deep breaths and just as many moments to pull himself together before Frank finally descends the stairs to the ground floor of the house. A few members of staff are rushing back with empty trays, but none of them look up as Frank approaches the large doors the lead to the ballroom. His hands are sweating and if he didn’t know any better, he would say that he’s nervous. Already the elegant music is floating over him and that combined with the buzz of conversation and laughter allows him to slip in to the room with little detection. 

“It’s Franklin!” the unmistakable mocking tone of Sebastian calls. Frank feels the very moment more than a dozen sets of eyes pin him. He freezes, caught between the fight and flight instinct for longer than necessary, but then a warm, bony hand clamps over his shoulder and he knows all chances of escape have disappeared. 

“It’s lovely to see you again,” Sebastian’s wife smiles and nods as Frank turns to greet them. Frank returns the greeting and then Sebastian quickly shoos her away with a well placed, “Oh look, darling. It’s Elizabeth from church. Why don’t the two of you go chat?” Frank really does despise this man. 

“Did you want to talk about something, Sebastian?” Frank asks, hoping his distain shows with the sigh in his voice. 

Sebastian grins. “Anne Ashford is over there, did you notice?” he says, tilting his glass to somewhere behind Frank. “Or if you were feeling a little more daring, Elizabeth is from Florence’s church, she’ll be harder to crack but in to charitable events, which would definitely play to your advantages.”

Frank’s just about to throw up on Sebastian’s shoes out of utter disgust when his father comes in to view. 

“You’ll have to excuse me, my father wants to see me,” he says before rushing off. 

It turns out Edward does in fact want to see Frank, to introduce Frank to Clive Meriwether, one of the out of town designers, and his daughter Chloe. Frank wants to glare at his father or maybe shriek, “I KNEW IT!” as dramatically as possible, because he knew he just wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation of so many single, young women. 

“Chloe is somewhat of an animal enthusiast as well, Frank,” Edward says after the two of them awkwardly shake hands. “Come, Clive. We should mingle more and let the two of them get better acquainted.”

Frank resists the urge to trip his father up as he passes – just barely. 

“So,” Frank begins after a rather uncomfortable few moments of nothing. “You like animals?” 

Chloe tucks a stray curl of raven hair behind her ear and nods sweetly with innocent smiling eyes. “I like to hunt,” she states and Frank’s face quickly falls. 

The apparently not-so-innocent Chloe has been talking about gutting her first animal carcass for near five minutes when Gerard appears as if from nowhere. Frank’s never been more glad to see him, another graphic description of what its like to shoot an animal square between the eyes and Frank may have actually thrown up. 

“Sir, I am so terribly sorry to interrupt but I’m afraid I require your assistance immediately on a matter in the kitchens,” Gerard says in perhaps the politest voice Frank’s ever heard. 

“Yes, of course. Excuse me, Chloe,” Frank nods before rushing away behind Gerard as quick as possible. 

Back out in the foyer Frank breathes a huge sigh of relief.

“I am forever in your debt,” he says. 

Gerard laughs. “What was she talking about? Your face was almost white.”

“Well, she-”

“Franklin, what are you doing hiding out here?”

Frank wants to throw something. He turns to greet Sebastian with the best ‘I-hate-you’ smile he can muster. 

“I’m not hiding. Gerard needed to bring something to my attention,” he explains. 

“Well, _Gerard_ ,” Sebastian scoffs. “Have you quite finished?” Gerard nods. “Good. You can go away now. There are plenty of people with empty glasses, I’m sure you should be tending to those guests.”

Gerard nods again and turns to leave when Frank feels the raw anger bubble in his chest, rising higher and higher until it overspills.

“Don’t you dare talk to him like that,” Frank snaps, and both Gerard, Sebastian and several passing staff eye him with surprise. 

“Frank, what in heaven’s are you on about? He is the help,” Sebastian says with his malicious tongue. 

“But he is not _your_ help. He works in _my_ house, and as long you are a guest in my house you will treat him and any other staff member with the same decency and respect as myself and my father do. Is that clear?”

Frank has never heard himself sound so authoritative, and apparently neither has Sebastian, because he quickly disappears back in to the ballroom without anything more than a quick turn and a hair toss. Gerard, however, has fixed Frank with a look so intense that it makes Frank’s mouth dry. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says and then his lips pull in to a satisfied smirk. “But I’m glad that you did.”

~

The party drags on in to the late evening just as the wedding had done, and as time passes Frank finds his list of people to avoid growing by the minute. Thankfully, Sebastian appears to have given up taunting him, which is one victory of the night. He’s been spotted by Chloe several times, but she hasn’t made any more attempts to speak with him. 

Anne Ashford on the other hand…

“Oh, Frank. It’s so wonderful to see you,” she says, her tightly curled hair bouncing with every word. “I was so upset we didn’t get a moment to talk at the wedding.”

Frank is aware of how close she is getting and it’s just a few more steps until he’ll find himself out of room and fresh out of luck. He scans the room frantically for Gerard, but he is nowhere to be seen. 

“Really?” Frank says dumbly. “What could you possibly want to talk to me about?” 

Anne grins. “Why, to have you ask me for a dance, of course.”

Frank swallows. “A dance?”

“Just one little dance, Frank. That’s all I want.”

With no help in sight Frank does the only thing he can. He nods. 

Anne practically squeals with excitement and whisks Frank on to the dance floor with such force that he wonders if she will lead. She doesn’t, and Frank can’t decide if he’s disappointed or not. She finds the rhythm of the upbeat song quicker than Frank does, but soon they are gliding across the floor with the other dancers. Frank’s trying to remember the steps, it’s been quite a while since he last danced, perhaps the last ball his father threw, and he’s trying not to stumble over his own feet. Anne is gripping his shoulder with the force of a wild animal and moving herself closer to him that he might end up tripping over her feet rather than his own. 

Several uncomfortable moments later, Frank finally notices Gerard. He’s staring at the two of them intently with a half empty tray of glasses, and Frank may have only seen him briefly, but he would dare to say that Gerard looked jealous. On the second lap of the dance floor Anne moves herself even closer to Frank, resting her head on his chest, and giggles. Gerard’s eyes narrow. Yes. Definitely jealous. 

When the song ends the crowd applauds the band and Frank disappears before Anne can ask him for another dance. He doesn’t get very far before his father finds him, grinning and clapping a hand over his shoulder before pushing him in the direction of a semicircle of young girls who are all whispering and giggling, probably expecting Frank to ask one of them to dance. He’s about to turn when his father shoves him even closer, and the girls shriek with laughter as Frank stumbles. 

With his father’s eye boring in to the back of his head, Frank picks the girl in the middle, short and shy looking, and asks her to dance. She accepts with a quick nod and continues to say nothing through out the entire dance, not that Frank would notice as he spends his time searching the crowd for Gerard’s face, chasing that little thrill he felt when Gerard watched on in jealousy as he danced with Anne – but Gerard is nowhere to been seen. 

~

By the end of the night, Frank is exhausted. He’s danced with the whole group of women at least twice over, spurred on by his father’s satisfied grin and Anne’s dissatisfied scowl. His feet are aching, his head is sore and his palms are still sweating. All he can think of now is Gerard’s soothing hand on the back of his neck and the comfort of his favourite armchair. 

Unfortunately, Gerard is still nowhere to be found. Even Annie and James haven’t seen him. When they’ve gone, Frank sighs dejectedly and heads for his room. 

It’s an hour later when there’s a knock at Frank’s bedroom door. Frank tosses his book aside and sits up quickly. “Come in,” he says, voice hopeful. 

Gerard steps in to the room, closing and locking the door behind him. Frank feels strangely relieved to see him, and the urge to reach out and touch is almost overwhelming. 

“Gerard,” he smiles. “I tried to find you-”

“I was busy with the other staff,” he explains as he shuffles wearily across the room. He looks even more exhausted than Frank feels. “Besides,” he smirks, “I though you might still be entertaining your lady friends.”

“Oh, hush,” Frank says, waving a hand dismissively as he flops back on to his pillows. “You know I spent every minute of that party looking for an escape.” 

“I don’t know,” Gerard shrugs. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself, not as much as Anne did, of course.”

Frank smiles and shakes his head. “I was not enjoying myself. Maybe your vision was clouded with jealousy.”

Gerard scoffs. “I was not jealous.”

“Oh, really?” Frank challenges, pulling himself up again. “So you didn’t mind that all those women danced with me? That they held themselves against me, my hand firmly gripping their waists as we-”

“Stop!” Gerard demands and Frank’s mouth quickly snaps shut. He had only meant to tease, but the hurt on Gerard’s face tells him this is no joke. 

“Gerard, I was just-”

“I know,” Gerard interrupts again as Frank drags himself back to the edge of the bed. He sighs as if defeated. “I know,” he repeats, only much quieter this time. “I didn’t even realise myself I would have such feelings about seeing you just dance with another person.” 

“Gerard,” Frank says, though he’s not sure how to follow. Instead he stands in front of Gerard and reaches out to smooth a hand down the lapel of his jacket. 

“Seeing you dance with those women made me realise that this is going to be the rest of my life. I’m going to spend my days on the outside, looking in as you pretend to be someone who I can’t have.” 

“Gerard, you can have me,” Frank urges, stepping closer and sliding the hand to Gerard’s shoulder. 

“Not outside this room,” Gerard says. 

Frank nods. “One day, yes,” he whispers. 

Gerard shakes his head slowly in disbelief. “That’s not possible. You’re not going to tell your father.”

“Yes I am,” Frank states, and even he is surprised at how his voice does not waver in the slightest. 

Gerard’s eyes widen. “Frank, you can’t. What if he weren’t to accept it? Frank, you could lose everything.” 

“I know that my father loves me, and above all else, he wants me to be happy,” Frank explains. “I could lose him, this house and my life here, I know that. But if it ever came to that choice, what would ever make you think that I wouldn’t chose you?” 

Gerard opens his mouth but soon closes it. He swallows and blinks and finally sighs. “This is your life, I can’t ask you to-”

“You wouldn’t have to. If I had to leave, then I would. I’d fill my pockets with money, my arms with as many books as I could carry and I would leave – with you.”

For what feels like a long time, Gerard doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Frank in disbelief and awe. 

“What about Mary?” he finally whispers. 

Frank laughs. “Mary would carry books, too.” 

Gerard smiles, bright and warm before cupping the side of Frank’s face. “I’ve never had someone willing to sacrifice so much for me before.” 

Frank turns to kiss Gerard’s palm. “You would never be a sacrifice that I would be willing to make.” 

The kiss they share somehow takes them from the floor to the bed, and it’s only when Frank feels the mattress press against his back that he realises where they are. Gerard is atop of him, knees bracketing Frank’s hips as he kisses Frank with want and hunger. Frank can feel his own hunger start to burn in his chest and drop to the bottom of his stomach. Gerard presses himself closer and Frank’s hands automatically begin to pull at Gerard’s clothes. 

Frank’s making a habit of not thinking too much. All he knows is that he wants to feel Gerard’s warm bare flesh against his own, wants to align head to toe with tangled legs and wandering hands, and he wants it now. Unfortunately, with Frank purposely not thinking too much, clothes and limbs are snagged, caught and trapped at every opportunity. It’s terribly ungraceful, but it makes them smile and laugh and keeps that overwhelming intense feeling hovering just above them. 

“I want to feel you close,” Frank says, voice thick with lust as Gerard kicks his shoes to the floor. He presses his face in to the side of Frank’s neck as a hand snakes between them, pulling at the buttons on whoever’s trousers. Frank helps the best he can, though he’s not sure if he’s more of a hindrance. 

It’s with more effort on Gerard’s part than his own that Frank quickly finds himself stripped of all clothing. Gerard settles back on to his knees, cock straining against his belly as he stares down at Frank with wide and awing eyes. 

“Frank,” he says quietly, and with the desperation in his voice Frank knows exactly how he feels. 

Gerard reaches out to press his hand against Frank’s bare chest, trailing it down and down still, over one of his nipples and low over his stomach. Frank’s breath hitches with every discovery Gerard makes. When he wraps his fingers around Frank’s aching dick, Frank’s eyes fall closed and his mouth opens in a silent moan. 

Afraid this will be over before it’s really begun, Frank doesn’t let Gerard touch for very long. When he moves himself away from Gerard’s grasp, Gerard whines, but is quickly silenced when Frank scrambles to his knees and pulls Gerard close, pressing their hard naked bodies together. Senses on overdrive, Frank feels every inch of Gerard’s warm skin that touches his. 

Frank doesn’t have to say it, because they both know where this is leading, but he can’t resist whispering, “I want us to be one.” 

Gerard’s hands move to cover Frank’s hips and he squeezes them before gently pushing Frank away. 

Frank turns and watches with curiosity as Gerard falls back against the pillows. His spreads his legs slowly, eyes never leaving Frank’s face. When he sucks his own fingers in to his mouth Frank feels the immediate effect it has on his cock as it grows impossibly hard. Gerard swirls his tongue over the digits one more time before lowering them to his parted thighs. 

The book quickly jostles its way to the front of Frank’s memory, and he recalls that it was the word ‘preparation’ that caused Frank to think about recipes. He doesn’t get another moment of contemplation, because Gerard’s back is arching and his fingers have disappeared. Frank watches on helplessly, pinned to the spot by the weights of his desire. 

Gerard moans and rolls his hips upwards, fingers moving in and out as his eyes close and open and continue to do so again and again. Eyes closed and chin pointed to the ceiling, Gerard’s breathing gets higher and quicker, toes curling against the sheets as he begins to whisper, “Frank, _Frank_.” 

Frank snaps out of his daze and he shuffles closer to Gerard. He rests a hand on one of Gerard’s knees and quickly his head tilts forward to stare at Frank again. 

“Frank, I want to feel you inside of me,” says Gerard, voice scratched almost beyond recognition. Frank nods dumbly, remaining still with no clue as to what to do next. 

Removing his hand, Gerard surges back up on to his knees and kisses Frank, hurried and messy. Frank watches as Gerard takes his hand and holds it to his mouth. He licks from Frank’s palm to the tips of his fingers two, three times before guiding the hand to wrap around Frank’s own cock. Frank groans, hips stuttering helplessly forward in to his own fist. He strokes himself a few times before Gerard stops him and moves himself back to the head of the bed, facing the wall and gripping the headboard. 

“Come here,” he says over his shoulder and Frank is quick to get his chest pressed against Gerard’s hot back. His cock slides against Gerard’s cheeks and instantly they both moan with satisfaction. Gerard presses back. “Go on,” he urges, “Please.”

The desperation in Gerard’s plea makes Frank shudder. He kisses across Gerard’s shoulder, already glistening with beads of sweat, before grabbing his dick with a shaky hand. _Don’t over think,_ he says to himself. _Just feel._ He presses his hand to the small of Gerard back to steady him and then slowly, with held breath, pushes himself in to Gerard’s entrance. 

Gerard’s slow groan is a lost sound as all Frank can hear is the blood thrumming through his ears, like slowly being pulled underwater. Gerard’s body grips him, seeming to pull just as much as Frank pushes, and quickly they are pressed back to chest. Frank feels consumed, completely surrounded and overwhelmed by the sensation of tight heat. He lets out the breath in a long burst of warm air against Gerard’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice already sounding wrecked. 

Gerard nods, turning his head slightly to catch Frank’s cheek with his lips. “I’m fine,” he says, voice wavering. “You can move now, go steady.” 

Frank kisses his shoulder. “I won’t hurt you,” he promises.

Smiling, Gerard’s lips find Frank’s cheek again. “I know you won’t. I just want it to last.”

Gerard’s words wrap around Frank’s body tight, prompting the first steady thrust. Gerard’s head _thunks_ against the wall as he groans. “Good, yes. Just like that.”

Frank holds on to Gerard’s hips and does the same again, the feel of the loss and sudden gain of warmth and pressure instantly addictive. He thrusts in and pulls out until they’re both shaking, as steady as he can before Gerard starts to push back. 

“More,” he chokes, and Frank is more than ready to comply. He clamps a hand down over Gerard’s on the headboard to anchor himself before he moves quicker, hips rocking back and forth as the feeling grips his chest tighter and tighter still. 

Gerard reaches back, fingers scraping through Frank’s hair as he tugs their faces together. Frank takes the forced kiss and whines in to it, almost pained under the strain of the awkward angle, Gerard’s nipping teeth and the desperate need to keep their bodies moving. 

“Oh, God,” Frank says, words shallow in Gerard’s mouth as he starts to lose grip. “Gerard, I can feel it,” he gasps. 

Gerard grabs Frank’s hand and guides it to his neglected cock. “Don’t – leave me – behind,” he pants and Frank wraps his warm and sweat slippery fingers around Gerard. He strokes him eagerly, chasing release for them both. 

When Frank comes he sinks his teeth in to Gerard’s shoulder, using the mouthful of flesh to soften his own cries as he empties himself. His strokes still, but Gerard continues to rut forward in to Frank’s fist until he follows, slumping against the wall under Frank’s weight. 

Frank pulls out, weak and slow with his over sensitive nerves, and slides them both boneless back on to the bed. He waits for their breathing to slow before turning to face Gerard, who still has his eyes closed. Frank smiles. 

“Even with my eyes closed I know you are ever so pleased with yourself,” says Gerard with a grin. Frank laughs and drops a kiss to his lips. 

“How do you feel?” Frank asks and Gerard’s eyes flutter open. 

“Happy,” he sighs and then scrunches his nose, “and in need of a bath.” 

Frank leans over to the night dresser, picking up the damp cloth and dipping it in to the bowl of this morning’s water. He squeezes the cloth before turning back to drag it across Gerard’s stomach. 

“Cold,” he gasps, but Frank pays no attention. 

“Hold still,” he chuckles as he wipes the thick white ribbons away from Gerard’s stomach. He looks up to find Gerard watching, his face full of fondness as Frank takes care of him. Frank realises its probably been a rather long time since someone has. 

~ 

As the season begins to slip seamlessly in to Autumn, the house begins its winter preparation. The lamps remain lit longer and the beds are made with extra blankets, as well as hot porridge becoming the main dish on the breakfast menu. Frank prefers the eggs, but with a heaped teaspoon or six of sugar, he supposes porridge isn’t so bad. 

With the short days the house seems to wind down earlier. It’s not by much, but when late evening is the only time Frank can get to be with Gerard, he’ll take it. Gerard frequents Frank’s room more than Frank does Gerard’s. Frank is quite a distance from any other room and less likely to be disturbed. Sometimes, if the day has been particularly busy, Frank will sit at the bottom of Gerard’s bed and talk until Gerard falls asleep. 

Other nights Frank will wait in his room until he hears Gerard’s soft knock, and the two of them will talk and kiss and read and just be together, until it’s time for Gerard to leave. 

Tonight is no different. Frank lays back against his plush pillows, shirt undone and hair a mess (thanks to Gerard) as Gerard lays propped up with one hand, the other on the book that’s splayed open in front of him. He’s taken to reading some of the little bits of poetry through out the book to Frank, and Frank finds the slow ease of Gerard’s voice soothing.

“I am indifferent to my own songs - I will go with him I love,  
It is to be enough for us that we are together - We never separate again,” Gerard says, eyes leaving the page on the last few words, like he knows the poem by heart. 

Frank presses his head deeper in to the pillows, closing his eyes in a silent urge for Gerard to continue. He hears the pages flip as though Gerard is looking for something in particular. 

“When I heard at the close of the day how I had  
been praised in the Capitol, still it was not  
a happy night for me that followed,  
And else when I caroused – nor when my favorite plans were  
accomplished – was I really happy,  
But the day when I arose at dawn from the perfect  
health, electric, inhaling sweet breath  
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and  
disappear in the morning light,  
When I wandered alone over the beach, and undressing, bathed,  
laughing with the waters, and saw the sun rise,  
And when I thought how my friend, my lover, was on  
his way coming, then O I was happy,  
Each breath tasted sweeter – and all that day my food  
nourished me more – and the beautiful day passed well,  
And the next came with equal joy – and with the next,  
at evening, came my friend,  
And that night while all was still I heard the waters roll  
slowly continually up the shores,  
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands, as directed  
to me, whispering to congratulate me,  
For the friend I love lay sleeping by my side,  
In the stillness his face was inclined toward me, while the  
moon's clear beams shone,”

Frank opens his eyes to find Gerard watching him again. The book is closed in front of him and Frank wonders how many times he has read this poem before. Leaning over him, Gerard leans down to kiss Frank achingly slow. 

“And his arm lay lightly over my breast – and that night I was happy,” he whispers.

Frank’s chest fills with emotion so heavy that it feels like it presses him further in to the bed. He slides a hand in to Gerard’s hair and kisses him again, pulling him as close as he can. The book digs in to his stomach, but all he can feel is the weight in his chest and Gerard’s soft lips. 

“Stay with me tonight,” Frank says, hands still in Gerard’s hair, unwilling to let him go.

Gerard sighs and moves to press his lips to Frank’s forehead. “You know that I can’t,” he replies solemnly. “Besides, by the time you usually awaken I have already been at work for hours,” he smiles, attempting to lighten things with humour. 

Frank gives a weak smile in return and Gerard brushes his nose gently by Frank cheek. 

“I want to wake up with you,” Frank admits. “I want to spend the night in bed together, with you reading until it’s too dark to see – and then, when I open my eyes in the morning, I want your face to be the first thing I see.” 

Gerard shushes Frank even though he’s already stopped speaking. “I know,” he says. “And please don’t think that I don’t want all of that, too. But the house is busy and I’m not quite as willing for you to give up your life for me as you are – not just yet.” 

Frank’s trying not to look so disappointed, but his face quickly betrays him. He knows why Gerard can not stay and he’s grateful that Gerard is so careful and protective of their lives together as well as their lives apart. 

“At least be with me, before you go,” Frank pleas, hand running up the front of Gerard’s untucked shirt until it grazes his nipple. Gerard smiles and pulls Frank closer. 

They please each other with hands and mouths until the room is warm and their shoved aside clothes are rumpled and damp with sweat. Gerard doesn’t let Frank go far, keeping him as close as possible as they rut together, and even after when Frank’s sensitive flesh is melting in to the bed, Gerard doesn’t let go. 

~

Edward has decided that the parlour needs a touch of something new, or so he tells Frank over the first breakfast he’s managed to be present for in over a week. Frank scrunches his nose as he sips his coffee. He questions if this is really necessary, but his father is determined. 

“Change is what keeps us looking at the world in different ways, my son,” he says wisely. “There’s a lovely furniture store in town that the mayor swears by. I think you should pay them a visit and pick out a few pieces.”

Frank’s brows quirk. “Really?” he questions. His father has never been one to relinquish creative control before, especially to his son. 

Edward nods firmly. “Of course. I think it would be wonderful if you put a little of yourself in to this house. You’re old enough to have developed your own style and taste and while your choice of attire still bemuses me, I think you’ll do a wonderful job.” Frank blinks at his father. “You will be taking Gerard, though. Just for a second opinion, not because I don’t trust you.” 

“Does Gerard know about this.”

“Of course he does!” Edward smiles. “Where do you think he is now? The carriage is waiting outside. You leave as soon as you’ve finished eating.” 

“Can I take Mary?” Frank asks, not at all surprised when Edward rolls his eyes but definitely a little taken aback when he agrees. 

“Why not? Maybe she can help you smell out the right piece.” 

~

Gerard is smirking at Frank from the other side of the carriage, probably wondering if this whole situation is more amusing or terrifying, just as Frank is. Mary sits beside Gerard, head out of the window and long tongue flapping in the breeze. She may be the only one of them to actually enjoy this trip. 

“I haven’t been to town in a while,” Frank admits, which is true. Other than any time his father has given him an errand to run, dragged him to a social gathering or to the Christmas service once a year, Frank’s been in solitude – and that’s just the way he likes it. 

“And you’re concerned?” Gerard suggests. 

Frank shrugs. “Its always like I can feel their eyes all over me, as though I’m a hideous creature.” 

Gerard tuts. “Frank, you are anything but a hideous creature. People are probably just surprised to see you, that’s all.” 

Something about the way Gerard says it almost makes Frank believe him. Almost. Not only is he worried that the town will stop dead in its tracks as soon as he steps out the carriage, but he’s afraid that they’ll all be able to tell exactly what he and Gerard do together, in the privacy of night, just by looking at them. 

Suddenly, the carriage comes to a stop. They’re here. 

Gerard steps out first, setting Mary on the ground before turning to hold the door open for Frank. He smiles reassuringly, and with one last deep breath Frank climbs slowly out of the carriage. 

Nothing happens. No one stares or stops or faints. There’s no hushed gasps and definitely no angry mob. Maybe he really was just being foolish. Gerard hands him Mary’s leash and begins to lead the way in to the town. 

The town isn’t busy, which is both relieving and unsurprising. It’s not a very large town, and aside from the occasional mothers with their daughters and house staff running errands, the place is relatively quiet. Frank is actually rather enjoying their little stroll in the cold sunlight until they arrive at _Toro Furnishing_. 

The man who rushes out when they enter is both cheerful and talkative. His hat can barely contain his hair as he pushes it back on to his head after removing it to wipe at the sweat and dirt. He’s been in the back finishing an order from the mayor, apparently. 

“You must be Edward Iero’s son,” he says, and when Frank nods he grins and claps a hand on Frank’s back, steering him towards the back of the store. “Edward said I should expect a visit from you soon. Refurnishing the parlour, aren’t you?” he asks as they weave through rows of immaculately carved tables, mirror frames and bookcases. From what Frank can see, which isn’t much as the man hurries them along with haste, his work is pretty impressive. “Oh, I’m Ray, by the way.”

Frank smiles. “Hello, Ray. This is Gerard,” he gestures behind them, “and that’s Mary.”

Ray looks from Gerard to the fat dog and grins. “Excellent. If the three of you would like to follow me, I’ve already pulled out a few things I think you might like.” 

It turns out that Ray has quite a talent for guessing people’s furniture tastes. Frank wasn’t even aware he had a specific furniture taste, but everything Ray shows him he instantly wants to own. 

When Ray presents a wine class cabinet that stands six feet tall, made of varnished and well polished maple wood that curves in to thick spirals at the top and the base, Frank hears Gerard gasp behind him. 

“I think he likes it,” says Ray as he nudges Frank playfully and winks. 

“I think I agree,” Frank replies. 

An hour later and Frank and Gerard (and Mary) have picked out a large low center table, four matching side tables, the glass cabinet and a new armchair with deep red fabric. Ray’s making the couch to match, and when he does it will be on its way to the Iero household as quick as possible. 

Ray bids them farewell with a promise to personally deliver all purchases by tomorrow noon. Apparently, Ray is a fast worker. 

In the carriage on the ride home, Frank doesn’t realise he’s smiling until he finds Gerard grinning at him. 

“I’m glad you had a good time,” he says and Frank kicks softly at Gerard’s foot, just because.

~

Edward loves the furniture. The day after its been delivered and placed he strolls around the parlour with an arm around Frank’s shoulders. They walk in circles as Edward congratulates his son on his exquisite taste. 

“I never doubted you for a second!” he proclaims.

“Filthy liar,” Frank mumbles. 

He knows his father hears, but he pretends not to. On perhaps their six or seventh lap around the room, Edward stops them in the center, right in front of the large open fireplace. He gestures to the empty wall above it. 

“Something should go here,” he says. 

“A mirror?” Frank suggests and Edward quickly shakes his head. 

“No, a painting I think. Yes. The right painting would look lovely, just there. I think it would finish the room off nicely.”

Frank ponders for a moment before jumping suddenly, making Edward flinch. “I know just the painting!” 

“Oh, really?” says Edward, intrigued. 

It’s at that moment Gerard enters with a handful of sparkling clean glass ashtrays. He sets them on one of the four side tables before eying the Iero men oddly as he notices them staring. 

“Gerard has this painting,” Frank begins and instantly Gerard’s eyes widen in panic. “It’s a magnificent painting, of this house. It really is beautiful. I was lucky enough to see it once.”

“It – it’s not. It’s nothing, really,” Gerard babbles, looking rather flustered for perhaps the first time ever. 

“It’s a masterpiece,” Frank interjects, “and the detail is amazing.” 

“Well, that sounds perfect,” Edward says. “Where is this painting now?” 

“In Gerard’s room,” Frank supplies helpfully. 

“Excellent. Lead the way, Gerard!” calls Edward, swinging an arm towards to the door in a grand and military fashion. Gerard’s mouth snaps open and closed as he tries to talk, but he manages no more than broken words and a nod before obeying Edward’s orders. 

Frank doesn’t realise until they get to the staff corridor how awkward this is for himself and Gerard. Having his father stood in Gerard’s room, in the place where they kiss and whisper private things, feels a little like an invasion. It’s too late now, though, and soon Edward claps his hands on to Gerard’s shoulders as Gerard nervously unlocks his door. 

The painting still sits propped against the wall and the desk. The sunlight catches it perfectly, illuminating the colours in the gardens. Edward whistles. 

“Well, that is quite a talent – one you certainly didn’t get from your father.”

Gerard smiles and rubs at the back of his neck. “No, I suppose not.”

“I had the misfortune of seeing his artistic abilities when he was trying to encourage Frank to draw when he was young,” he shakes his head. “It was not a pretty sight.”

Gerard laughs and Frank enjoys the sound. He wonders how often the two of them talk about Donald when Frank’s not around, and if in fact they talk alone at all. 

“But this,” Edward continues, gesturing to the painting. “This is simply divine, Gerard. You must let us hang this in the parlour. This painting needs to be seen.” 

“I – I suppose. If you really like it that much…”

“Excellent!” Edward says, loud enough to scare the others in the room. “I’ll have James collect it for framing and the payment will be added to your next wage.” 

“Alright, I – payment?” Gerard repeats. 

Edward laughs. “Dear boy, I’m not just going to take the thing from you now, am I? Work like this deserves a generous reward. We’ll come to some agreement, I’m sure.”

When he leaves, Gerard drops on to his bed like his legs will no longer hold him. Frank waits until his father’s footsteps are distant before closing the door and stepping closer. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, sitting next to Gerard. 

“I think I’m just in shock. I never intended to sell the painting. I never even contemplated anyone actually wanting to buy it.”

Frank tuts and pushes softly at Gerard’s shoulder. “How can you say that? Gerard, your talent is unquestionable. Of every piece of art I’ve ever seen, I’ve never had one capture me like yours did.”

Gerard smiles and lays his head on Frank’s shoulder. “Aren’t you rather bias, though?”

“I fell in love with that painting before we fell in to bed, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” Frank laughs. “Love hasn’t made me blind, just yet.”

Gerard takes Frank’s hand and tightly laces their fingers together. “I’m very glad,” he says. 

~

As October draws on, Frank feels the cold more when he breathes and wonders how long it will be before the weather has its way with him. Every year he attempts to keep himself as warm as possible, this year going further as he spends most late evenings wrapped up in blankets and Gerard’s arms, the weather an excuse to hold Gerard close as they read, as they talk, as they kiss and touch and climax together. 

Still, the weather finds him, and he doesn’t realise how much so until a few mornings before his birthday as Edward frowns over his breakfast at Frank’s second coughing fit since they sat down. 

“You’re unwell,” he states. 

“No,” Frank shakes his head. It hurts. “I’m fine.”

“You are not,” Edward argues. “You look grotesque. Gerard, feel his forehead.”

Gerard is collecting empty plates and piling them on to the tray. He looks up as if momentarily unsure before finally pressing his palm to Frank’s warm forehead. It takes the rest of the energy Frank has not to nuzzle in to the touch. 

“You are very warm, Sir,” he says, and it takes Frank a second to realise Gerard is talking to him. “He’s very warm,” he repeats to Edward. 

“Hm, I thought so,” Edward hums. “I want you to go back to bed, right away. Gerard will bring you anything you need.”

Frank almost laughs. Instead he nods obediently and stands, head heavy and legs weary. Maybe a nap will help cure this quickly.

~

The next day, Frank has yet to move from his bed. Gerard and Annie have both been in with extra blankets, and Frank feels similar to that of a wild animal in the middle of hibernation. Maybe if he could hibernate, he wouldn’t have to go through this every single year. It’s not actually that different from locking himself away in his study all day, the room warm and lamp lit as he devours another book – only this time his chest aches with every breath and he sweats even when he’s freezing cold. 

“You’re not going to get any better if you keep misbehaving,” Gerard informs Frank after removing Frank’s hand from his thigh for the fifth time in as many minutes. Frank smirks. 

“How can you possibly know that?” he asks coyly as Gerard glances up from the book he’s been reading. They’ve been unable to get further than the first paragraph thanks to Frank’s restless fingers. 

“I just know,” Gerard replies, trying not to smile but failing as his lips quirk with amusement. 

“Well then, how do you expect me to behave when you’re doing that?” Frank says. 

Gerard looks at him with suspicion and confusion. “Doing what, exactly? I’m just sitting here.”

“Exactly!” Frank replies with a little too much energy for the state of his chest, and ends up coughing until Gerard is frowning at him. “You’re just sitting there, all the way over there in the chair. You’re not here, in bed.” 

“You’re sick,” Gerard states and Frank pouts. 

“Which is why I require extra love and attention,” Frank says as he shuffles over in bed, pulling the sheets aside and tapping the empty space suggestively. 

“I think the fever has gone to your brain,” Gerard mocks. 

Frank pouts again. “The door is locked and everyone’s in their own room. If I promise not to breathe directly on to you, will you at least just sit with me?”

Frank must sound desperate, but soon Gerard is smiling kindly and reaching down to unlace his shoes. He slips in to the bed and instantly Frank sighs and shifts over to rest his head on Gerard’s chest. He suddenly feels much better. Gerard pets Frank’s hair back before pressing his hand to Frank’s forehead. 

“You are still very warm,” he says.

Frank mumbles and nuzzles closer. “I won’t breathe on you, just keep reading until I fall asleep?”

Gerard does. 

~

When Frank awakens the next morning, his head is heavier than the previous day. He groans and coughs, rolling over in attempt to get away from the sunlight that’s shining in through the gap in the curtains. He opens his eyes and blinks away the sleep until the blurry room clears. That’s when he sees Gerard, asleep in the chair with his chin tucked in to his chest and the book closed in his lap. Frank smiles to himself. It’s morning and Gerard is the first thing he’s seeing. 

It’s the best birthday present ever. 

As though he can tell he is being watched, Gerard quickly twitches in his seat, eyes popping open. He sits up with a start. “What time is it?” he asks, panicked. 

“Early,” Frank rasps, apparently not yet ready to use his voice. He can see the moment realisation hits Gerard and he leans forward to grab Frank’s hand. “Happy birthday,” he smiles, kissing Frank’s knuckles. “How are you feeling?”

“Wonderful,” Frank grins, and they both know he’s not talking about his health. 

What is not wonderful or a pleasant birthday surprise is a visit from the doctor. Not long after Gerard leaves for morning rounds Edward enters, doctor in tow. He prods and pokes at Frank until he feels even sicklier than before. The doctor hums a lot and scratches things down quickly in pencil in a little black journal. Then, he stands and nods and tells Edward that Frank needs bed rest and plenty of fluids. Frank rolls his eyes. He could have told them that. 

When the doctor leaves, Edward sits on Frank’s bed and ruffles his hair. “Happy birthday, son,” he says. 

Frank bats his hand away and scowls. “Thank you.” 

“What are we going to do with you?” Edward ponders. “Ill on your own birthday. I suppose I’m going to have to cancel that private party with Anne Ashford and a few other local girls.”

“I despise you,” Frank mumbles. Edward chortles and ruffles his hair again. 

The bedroom door opens and Frank hears the skittering of claws on wood before Mary leaps on to the bed. Frank grins and pulls her close, pulling affectionately at her ears. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Edward says as he points to the floor. “Get off that bed!”

Mary nuzzles closer to Frank. 

“She’s alright where she is, father. Honestly, it’s fine,” Frank tries, but Edward stands and points to the floor again. 

“No it’s not. You need to concentrate on getting well and having an animal in your bed isn’t going to help. Mary, _down!_ ” 

“Sorry, girl,” Frank sighs before ushering Mary away. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she finds Gerard. They seem to enjoy each other’s company.” 

Frank sighs again and nods before falling back against his pillows. This is going to be a rather unpleasant birthday. 

~

Edward insists that Frank cannot have his present until he is well again, and no matter how much Frank insists that it isn’t fair, Edward doesn’t budge on the matter. He does, however, leave promptly for a business meeting, promising that he’ll come and see Frank as soon as he gets home. Frank won’t hold his breath. 

Annie stops by with a birthday pie from the staff and even sings to him as she cuts him a generous piece for his lunch. Frank laughs and accepts the pie gratefully, insisting that Annie stay and keep him company for a while. She manages near an hour of talking and giggling until Mrs. Meredith finds them and scolds them both. Annie leaves with an apologetic frown and Frank’s dirty dishes. 

When Gerard visits again, it’s only a few hours from dinner. It feels like Frank hasn’t seen anyone in a week. 

“Your father’s sent word that he’s been called in to another meeting with the mayor,” Gerard explains. “He said he’s very sorry and that he’ll make sure your birthday is celebrated properly when you recover.”

Frank pulls the covers to his chest and sulks. “This has been the most boring birthday,” he complains and then quickly smiles, remembering. “Though it did start out rather well.” 

Smiling in return, Gerard takes up his usual spot in the chair by the bed, pulling it closer than Annie had. He pours another cup of water and hands it to Frank. 

“You need to keep drinking,” he instructs. Frank sighs but obeys, draining most of the cup in just a few gulps. 

“There, I’m being good,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Gerard smirks and leans forward to feel Frank’s forehead again. 

“Still warm.” 

“Still ill,” says Frank and Gerard frowns when he follows the words with a violent cough. He dips a cloth in to the bowl of cold water by Frank’s bed, squeezing out as much excess water as possible.

Frank reaches out to take it, but instead of handing it over Gerard presses a hand to Frank’s chest until he lies back. Kicking off his shoes, Gerard climbs on to the bed before pulling Frank in to him and pressing the cloth to his warm forehead. Frank hums blissfully. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Gerard says, shifting to reach in to his jacket pocket. “I did this for you. Well, it’s not much – but I thought you might like it.” 

He hands over a rectangular strip of paper. When Frank turns it over, he grins. It’s a charcoal sketch of Mary, sitting by the foot of an armchair. As with everything Gerard does, even the smallest detail is present, from the slight crook in one of Mary’s ears to the rolls in her skin. 

“I love it,” Frank says, aware of how completely overexcited he sounds over a drawing. “Gerard, it’s perfect,” he enthuses, turning to kiss the closest thing of Gerard that’s not his mouth. It turns out to be his neck, and when his lips land on the sensitive flesh, Gerard inhales sharply. 

“I’m glad you like it,” he says, pressing the cloth firmly to Frank’s forehead again. 

Frank settles on Gerard’s chest and holds the picture aloft so he can see it in the light. 

“Thank you,” he says and then glances up at Gerard gratefully. “I love you.” 

Gerard smiles. “I love you, too.” 

~

Frank doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when he wakes there’s a tray of hot soup and warm bread in front of him. His stomach grumbles in anticipation, but as he attempts to move his head quickly spirals. He groans. 

Gerard is at his side instantly, feeling his head and moving the tray away. Frank whines in protest, but Gerard ignores him in favour of pressing another cup of water in to his hands. 

“Drink slowly,” he says softly. Frank complies, taking a few tentative sips before falling back in to his pillows. His head stills. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

Gerard helps Frank eat his dinner, lifting the spoon to Frank’s mouth whenever he looks particularly tired. What Frank first imagined to be humiliating and awkward is actually rather sweet and touching as Gerard breaks off clumps of bread to dip in soup and hand to Frank. 

“I’ve arranged for Mrs. Meredith to cover my evening and early morning duties,” Gerard says as he clears the dishes away. “With a cough like that you shouldn’t be left alone.” 

Frank’s torn between cursing his sickness and being grateful for it. Having Gerard to himself for an entire night and being able to wake up to his face is definitely something Frank is keen to repeat, but being too ill to enjoy it makes the whole thing even more like torture. He contemplates asking Gerard to sleep in bed with him, but knows all to well what the answer will be. Aside from Gerard, Mrs. Meredith and Edward are the only other people with a skeleton key, and both would be willing to use it against a locked bedroom door to check up on a sick Frank. 

“Will you read to me, again?” Frank asks. 

“Of course. What would you like me to read? Frankenstein? Jane Eyre? Or perhaps some Dorian Gray?” 

Frank shakes his head at each suggestion. “I want to hear more from your book.” 

“Oh,” says Gerard, sounding a little surprised. “Alright, where is it?” 

“In there,” Frank replies, pointing to the cupboard under the night table. “I want to hear more poetry,” he requests. “I like the way you read it.”

Gerard smiles. He retrieves the book and settles in to the armchair. Frank settles himself at the very edge of the bed, close enough to lay a hand on Gerard’s thigh. This time, though, he doesn’t remove it. 

“Among the choir a youth my notice won,  
Of pleasing lineaments named Eddleston.  
With gifts well suited to a stripling’s mood,  
His friendship and his tenderness I wooed.

Oh! how I loved to press his cheek to mine;  
How fondly would my arms his waist entwine!  
Another feeling borrowed friendship’s name,  
And took its mantle to conceal my shame.

Another feeling! Oh! ’tis hard to trace  
The line where love usurps tame friendship’s place.  
Friendship’s the chrysalis, which seems to die,  
But throws its coil to give love wing to fly.”

~

Two days later, Frank is back to good health. He awakens that morning with no pounding in his head and no coughing up ghastly things – just the sight of Gerard sleeping silently in the armchair. He feels restless and closed in, legs aching to walk more than a few steps. 

When Gerard wakes a few minutes later, he is first sceptical of Frank’s announcement that all is well, but is quickly convinced as Frank pulls him in my the lapels of his jacket to kiss him with the hunger that’s been building for days. Frank almost gets Gerard in to the bed – almost – but Gerard pulls back with a lazy grin. 

“You are terrible,” he informs Frank. 

“I haven’t been able to touch you for days,” says Frank. “Just think yourself lucky your clothes are still intact.” 

Gerard blushes and smirks. “Just terrible!” he repeats. 

After breakfast, Edward enters Frank’s room with his hands behind his back. Frank sits up, attempting to peer around the side of his father. 

“Is this my present?” he asks. 

“Yes,” Edward replies, but he doesn’t seem as excited as Frank would have expected him to be. Edward sits on the edge of the bed, his face almost solemn. 

“Father, what’s the matter?” 

“Nothing,” he says, giving Frank a bright smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thank you,” says Frank, “May I have my present, now?” 

“Well, son, the thing is…it’s not exactly a present from me.”

Frank is confused. “I don’t follow.”

Edward sighs and brings forth a book. He brushes the cover tentatively before placing it in Frank’s hands. 

“Great Expectations?” Frank says. He’s read this book many times before, surely his father must know this. They’ve talked about it. Even he has read it. 

“It was your mother’s,” Edward explains and suddenly the solemn expression is all too apparent and Frank’s heart tugs. “It was her favourite book. When she fell pregnant she put it aside for the baby, for you.” He reaches out to open the cover and there, on the front page, is a message. 

_**My child, I hope you wander through life with great expectations and that you are never disappointed.** _

The hand writing is soft and curved, elegant and small. Frank’s never seen his mother’s handwriting before and it makes his insides ache. He looks up at his father, blinking away the wet in his eyes until he sees his father attempt to blink away his own. 

“Why couldn’t you give me this on my birthday?” Frank asks, voice scratched. 

“Because you were already unwell and I didn’t want it to upset you,” Edward sighs. 

“No, well, yes,” Frank starts. “It’s a little sad, yes…but I’m glad you’ve given it to me.” He touches his father’s hand softly. “Thank you.” 

Edward smiles and leans forward to kiss Frank’s forehead. “You’re welcome.” 

When he leaves Gerard is quick to enter and Frank wants to laugh at the thought of Gerard listening outside the door. He offers Frank a kind smile. With his new energy suddenly drained, Frank grips the book and continues to blink back the tears. With no apparent regard for the time or the unlocked door, Gerard practically throws himself on to the bed, gathering Frank in to his arms as he shushes him softly. 

Though Frank is well, Gerard spends the night in his room again. Frank’s near exhausted from walking around the gardens and the whole of the house several times over with Mary, just happy to use his legs again, and though Gerard insists he will be sleeping in the armchair again, Frank still manages to tempt him in to bed for a while with long, sweet kisses. 

~

“I don’t know how you do it,” Frank says one night as they sit opposite in his study. It feels like an age since they spent the evening in here, and like old friends Frank missed the sight of towering books and high shelves.

Gerard hums and glances up from his book. “What’s that?”

“How you do so much on so little sleep. You spend most evenings with me until late, and then you’re up with the sun keeping this house going. It’s almost like you’re a vampire.”

Gerard laughs. “If I were a vampire I wouldn’t have to work. I enjoy my job and I enjoy your company. Sleep is an easy sacrifice. Besides, my father always instilled a good work ethic within me.” 

Frank frowns in thought. “I supposes my father wishes he had done the same with me, maybe then I wouldn’t be buried under books every day while he works hard building amazing things.” 

Gerard sighs, reach forward across the short distance between them to wrap his fingers around Frank wrist. “Frank, your father loves you. I’ve always worked because I have to. With infinite possibilities it would take me a very long time to figure out just what I wanted to do with my life.” 

“Yes, but everyone must be so bored waiting for me to figure it out.”

Gerard smirks. “Not at all, figuring it out is the fun part.” 

~

Over breakfast the next morning, Edward coughs violently in to his clasped hands. Frank frowns and when Edward sees this he dismisses Frank’s concern with the wave of his hand, insisting it’s nothing. By the time Gerard brings their tea and coffee, he’s on his second coughing fit. 

“Sir, are you alright?” Gerard asks. 

“Feel his forehead,” Frank instructs Gerard, half serious and half smirking at his father. 

“You are very warm, Sir,” Gerard says. “Would you like me to send word to the firm?”

Edward shakes his head firmly. “No, thank you, Gerard. That will not be necessary,” he pauses to cough again. “I’ll be fine.” 

“At least let me bring you some more suitable tea, Sir,” Gerard requests and Edward sighs and nods. 

“You really shouldn’t go out today,” Frank says to his father. “It’s far too cold to be out with a cough like that.”

Edward laughs. “I’ll take an extra scarf and more of Gerard’s tea,” he says. “I’ll be right as rain in just a few days, you’ll see.” 

~

Frank does not, in fact, see. A week later, Edward is escorted home by two of his colleagues and a doctor. He’d been getting progressively worse over the week but still refused to admit he needed rest and medical attention. The doctor informs Frank that his father collapsed at work after a rather violent coughing fit before following the two men that are currently helping Edward to his room. Frank follows behind them, rolling his eyes every time his father tell them their help is unnecessary. 

“Jugs of water and extra blankets,” Frank says to Mrs. Meredith as she waits by Edward’s door. She nods and disappears. 

Frank waits in the corridor while the doctor examines his father. The colleges leave soon after arriving and Frank thanks them graciously before asking Mrs. Meredith to show them the way out. Gerard turns up quickly, pacing down the corridor at speed. 

“Annie just told me what happened,” he says, “is he alright?” 

“The doctor is still examining him,” Frank explains. “He looked awfully pale when they brought him in, though he was still well enough to complain.”

Gerard chuckles. “Well, that’s a good sign, I suppose. Is there anything I can do?”

“I sent Mrs. Meredith for water and blankets. Maybe you could make him some tea?” 

Gerard nods and right then Frank wishes he could have Gerard touch him in any reassuring way possible. Instead he’ll have to settle for a smile. 

“Of course,” Gerard says. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Frank’s eyes shine with the possibilities. Gerard narrows his eyes and shakes his head. 

“Terrible,” he tuts as he turns to leave. 

When the doctor is finally finished, Frank rushes in to the room. Edward is dressed in his nightshirt and tucked under his sheets, looking tired and annoyed. It’s similar to what Frank had not more than a week ago, if not the same, and rest and fluids are what’s best. Frank once again thanks the doctor for his brilliant insight. 

“Haven’t you done enough damage?” Edward rasps as Frank fills him a large cup of water as soon as Mrs. Meredith returns with it, along with the extra blankets. 

Frank laughs and hands his father the cup. “I’m sorry I infected you.”

“The next time you are ill I’m going to nail your bedroom door shut and slide flat breads under the door,” Edward says, smiling. 

Frank beams. “I wouldn’t put anything passed you, father.” 

Edward slurps noisily at the water, mumbling a reply that Frank doesn’t hear. When Gerard returns with the tea, Edward seems far more appreciative of it that the water. He sips at it before narrowing his eyes at the room. 

“You may leave me in peace now. A day’s rest and a good night’s sleep and I’ll be back on my feet,” he says. 

“Father, you need to rest properly,” Frank urges. “It’s going to take more than a day.”

Edward waves a dismissive hand. “Not when you have the heart of a lion. Now, go and read or stop Mary destroying something. I’m not going to get any rest with a room full of people staring at me, am I?”

Frank frowns but obeys. 

“Don’t worry,” Gerard says as they walk the corridor to the stairs. “As ill as he looks, your father is far too stubborn to be ill for long.” 

~

Two weeks later, Edward is still in bed. He hasn’t worsened, but there have been no signs of improvement. There are coughing fits and cold sweats and spells of dizziness, but Frank suspects the lack of recovery has something to die with the fact that he really is quite sick – even after two weeks in bed. 

Work on the town hall hasn’t exactly grinded to a holt like Edward has been telling Frank it would do without him, but the mayor’s countless letters enquiring of Edward’s well being have become a lot more persistent. He even asks, somewhat politely, to have plans and files and contracts sent to the house for Edward to look over in bed. Frank refuses – mayor or no mayor. 

There are few visitors in the two weeks, one or two work colleges and of course the trusted doctor. It’s strange, Frank thinks, to see him so regularly and not be the cause of the visits. The doctor comments on this too. 

Frank spends as much time as his father will allow by his bedside, talking and reading between forehead checks and cups of tea or water. Edward complains bitterly about his diet of soups and rice, asking Annie several times if she could perhaps make the next meal a thick, juicy steak or a fat, herb stuffed chicken. Each time Annie giggles sweetly and promises to inform the cook, and every time Frank rolls his eyes and says, “The doctor said-”

“I know what the doctor said,” Edward cuts in. “I’m a grown man and I’m being treated like a child.”

When he’s finished coughing up what sounds like an expelled demon, Frank scowls and hands him a cup of water. “You’re acting like a child.” 

Edward sticks out his tongue. Frank mirrors the expression. 

“Brat,” Edward mumbles.”

“Stubborn pig,” Frank laughs. 

Each evening, after Edward has fallen asleep or shooed him from the room, Frank returns to his own room to find Gerard waiting for him. Either in Frank’s chair or on Frank’s bed, he’ll smile kindly as Frank enters, strip him of his waistcoat and trousers and talk to him until his worry subsides. 

~

The mayor is getting persistent and boarder line rude. Frank does not tell his father of their correspondence, in fear it will either hinder his recovery or jeopardise his job. As hardworking as Edward Iero is, everyone who knows him is well aware of how protective he is over Frank. If he found out the worry lines on Frank’s forehead were caused by an apparently unsympathetic mayor, he wouldn’t stand for it. 

Keeping it from his father is hard. Edward is suspicious at the best of times, and as Frank’s face grows even more weary with each day of round the clock care, making sure nothing bothers his sick father and trying to grab the time in the evening to be with Gerard, Frank can tell he is becoming even more sceptical of his nonchalant answers. 

After another visit from the doctor and another obnoxiously self important letter from the mayor, Frank is tired and feeling rightfully glum. His father falls asleep quickly after dinner, not having the energy for playful banter or even to scowl at Frank until he leaves. 

When Frank gets back to his room he is more pleased than ever to find Gerard lazing against the headboard, waiting for him. Frank kicks off his shoes and removes everything but his underwear before crawling in to bed and pulling Gerard down with him. He buries his face in Gerard’s chest and inhales deeply.

“Everything alright?” Gerard asks quietly, arms wrapping tight around Frank’s back. 

“Is it selfish of me to want my father to get better so that I don’t have to put up with the mayor’s letters anymore?” he mumbles in to Gerard’s shirt. 

Gerard squeezes Frank and presses his lips to his forehead. “Maybe I should misplace the next letter.”

Frank laughs, face still hidden. “Then he might visit and my father might kill him.” 

“We’d really be in a fluster then.”

“At least no one would want to marry in to this crime ridden family.”

Gerard snorts. “You always find a positive side.” 

Frank rolls his shoulders until the bones crack and moves to press his face against Gerard’s neck. He kisses the flesh softly, two or three sweet pecks before he starts to suck the skin in to his mouth. 

Gerard gasps and squirms. “Frank,” he warns, but is unable to hold back the moan that quickly follows. 

Frank releases Gerard’s neck only to move to his jaw. He starts to tug at the buttons on Gerard’s shirt, wanting it undone and gone as soon as possible. With Gerard’s help, it soon is and Frank’s mouth drops to the closest nipple. He watches through lidded eyes as Gerard’s mouth falls open and feels him harden against his thigh. Frank can’t even remember the last time they touched like this. 

Gerard’s belt and trousers are Frank’s next target, and with his mouth still fastened securely around Gerard’s hardened nipple, pulling moans straight from his chest, he somehow manages to get passed both. 

When the underwear has followed, Gerard moves them until Frank is sat back against the headboard and he is in Frank’s lap. Unable to stop touching Gerard, Frank’s hands stroke everything they can reach until Gerard takes one of Frank’s wondering hands and licks it from palm to tip. Frank’s breath hitches with excitement. 

Buried inside Gerard, consumed and pulled in, Frank presses his face to Gerard’s chest again, teeth scratching against the salty skin. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the taste. He may be tired and overexcited, but he wants this to last. It doesn’t seem like an option, though, and when Gerard begins to move Frank can already feel the burn in his thighs. 

A few minutes of steady rhythm and Frank’s hand around Gerard’s cock sees them both quickly to the edge. They hover there for moments, gasping and kissing, skin hot and eyes pinned to one and other. When Frank comes, the release is more like a relief and he feels the weight of his worries melt out of him until he is boneless against the headboard. 

Gerard cleans them both up and he holds Frank close until he has to leave. “My love,” he whispers, kissing Frank sweetly before rolling out of bed. 

~

In the morning, Frank wakes to confusion and noise. The bright sunlight tells him that it’s later than he intended to sleep and the noise down the corridor tells him that something is not right. Frank blinks away the sleep, momentarily confused as to whether this is reality or a dream. He rubs his eyes and the noise continues. 

Someone is screaming. It sounds like Annie.

Frank jumps out of bed, pulling on his trousers and shirt and rushing for the door. He stumbles over his own feet as he fastens his trousers hastily, hurrying towards the direction of the noise. His father’s room.

As he rounds the corner, Gerard is holding Annie tightly, shushing her as she sobs. A scattered tray and broken plates line the doorway and Frank’s still trying to find his voice when Gerard sees him. 

“Gerard, what’s going on?”

“Stop, right there!” Gerard instructs. Frank stops instantly, suddenly frozen with fear. Gerard moves Annie on to Mrs. Meredith and steps forward towards Frank. “Go downstairs, Frank,” he says, voice more stern and serious than Frank’s ever heard. 

“What’s going on?” he asks again, the same fear that froze him now moving him forwards. Gerard stops him with a hand to his chest, but Frank pushes passed. He doesn’t get very far until Gerard’s arms wrap around him, tugging him back away from the door. 

It’s too late, though. Frank’s already seen. The tugging of Gerard’s arms and the shriek of Annie’s sobs drown out to a numb silence as Frank sees his father’s lifeless body, still tucked up neatly beneath the sheets where Frank had left him the previous night – only now his eyes are open wide, unblinking and empty. 

As the world rushes quickly back around him, Frank lurches and wretches as though to be sick. His stomach is empty but still he wretches again. His entire body goes cold and the urge to vomit is overwhelming. Gerard pulls him back, this time able to get Frank to stumble away from the doorway. 

“Frank, come on,” Gerard chokes, voice breaking. 

He gets Frank to the end of the corridor before he breaks. Frank crumbles to the ground, falling to his knees, sobbing and shouting. Gerard follows, pulling Frank hard against him as he lashes out and cries, begging to something, anything, to make this all go away, to let him wake up. Frank can only hear the sound of his own voice until Gerard grabs his face in both hands and shouts his name. 

The next thing Frank sees is black. 

~

When Frank wakes up for the second time, he’s back in his own bed. Gerard has him by the shoulders and the sheets below him are damp with sweat. His head is heavy as though it’s been hit with force and is filled with broken images and sounds. 

“Frank, wake up,” Gerard is saying.

Frank groans, hand to his head as the memories come flooding back in a wave of disbelief and realisation. “My father-”

Gerard takes Frank’s hand and holds it to his chest. “The doctor’s just been to pronounce him,” he whispers. His eyes are red like he’s been crying for a while and Frank’s mind still can not process the words, let alone make sense of them. “Frank, I’m so sorry,” he says, reaching out to brush his fingers over Frank’s cheek. 

Nothing feels real. The sickness has gone but still Frank feels ill from the inside out – like he’s been infected with poison. He sits up and stares at Gerard, unable to do much else. For a long time it’s quiet, just the two of them and the silence that stretches on between. 

“No,” Frank whispers, shaking his head. “It’s not true. I was dreaming – just an awful dream.”

Gerard looks at Frank with hurt and something that feels, to Frank, like pity. “I wish it were,” says Gerard and Frank’s eyes instantly fill with burning hot tears. 

His head pounds and throat scratches like the beginning of an illness Frank’s never going to be able to cure. Slowly, he lays back down, face hidden in his pillows as he continues to cry silently. 

For a while he lies there drifting in and out of sleep, caught between broken dreams and an unwanted reality. Most of the times that Frank wakes, he can still feel the weight of Gerard sat next to him, and sometimes there’s a hand on his shoulder or head. 

Once when he wakes he hears Gerard talking to someone. He’s not sure who it is, but Gerard is asking about doctors and requesting dinner. He also instructs that no one is to see Frank yet. 

“I don’t care who it is or how urgent they say it is. He’s just lost his father, they can at least give him this night to grieve privately.” 

Frank’s lost all track of time but the sun is low the next time Gerard shakes him softly awake. There’s a plate of sandwiches in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other. He urges Frank to sit up. 

“You should eat something,” he says as he sets the plate next to Frank before settling himself in the armchair. Frank reaches out for the glass and drains it in one sharp, burning gulp. “Yes, I thought you might need that.”

Frank gasps against the taste. “Thank you.”

“You need to eat,” Gerard tells him, nudging the plate closer. Frank shakes his head. “Please,” Gerard whispers. “Just a little bit of something…for me.”

Frank looks up at him as though the words hurt. Finally, he takes a sandwich and nibbles at one of it’s corners. He manages to eat one whole sandwich before he pushes the plate back towards Gerard. He’s just about to say something when there’s a knock on the door. 

Gerard sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Come in,” he says. 

When the door opens, there is that unmistakable sound of claws on wood. Mrs. Meredith appears in the doorway just as Mary leaps on to the bed. The dog whines and paws at Frank, confused and worried. It must have been a strange day for her, Frank thinks. Mrs. Meredith smiles weakly before leaving again. 

Frank pulls Mary close and buries his face in her wrinkly neck as she continues to whine, squirming her head around in awkward positions in effort to lick Frank’s face. Frank wants to sob again, but it feels like there are no tears left. Mary snorts and grunts, sniffing in the direction of the plate of sandwiches. Gerard takes one, breaks it in half and feeds it to her. 

Watching as Gerard feeds the already overweight dog the rest of the food, Frank wonders if he has eaten much today, or done anything other than sit by Frank’s bedside. 

“Have you eaten?” Frank asks, voice weak. 

“Yes,” Gerard replies softly, setting down the now empty plate on the night table. “Briefly, while you were asleep.” 

With no more food, Mary nuzzles at Frank’s hand before trotting to the foot of the bed and rolling over. Frank moves, about to ask Gerard to join him but he’s already sliding off his jacket and shoes. He climbs on to the bed, allowing Frank to pull him down until they’re both lay atop of the covers, wrapped around each other as tight as possible. 

“Don’t leave,” Frank whispers. 

Gerard kisses his cheek. “I never will.” 

For the whole night Gerard stays. He holds Frank close, waking him from every dream and shushing Frank whenever the tears find him again. The door remains unlocked but the room stays undisturbed, the house once again silent in its grieving.

~

The night before the funeral, Frank still hasn’t left the second floor of the house. If he goes downstairs, if he opens the door and steps outside, life is going to begin again. He’s not ready for that. He doesn’t think he ever will be ready for anything more than his bedroom walls and Gerard’s embracing arms. Tomorrow, though, that’s all going to change. 

The funeral has been arranged mostly by the church, his father’s will and Gerard. Aside from answering the occasional question on the matter from Gerard, who has spent the week writing and answering letters on Frank’s behalf, Frank has had minimal input. There’s nothing he could say, nothing he could possibly suggest that would make this occasion any more telling about his father, his life and his personality. There are no words, and Frank doesn’t think there ever will be.

There is so much to think about, so much to discuss and decide that even the very acknowledgement of it makes Frank want to crawl under his bed and forget how to exist. If it weren’t for Gerard, he suspects that’s exactly where he would be. 

Frank sinks in to the bath, warm water rushing over his tired aching skin. He exhales slowly and stretches out his legs before tucking he knees back in to his chest protectively. Gerard’s folding towels and placing them on the chair by the door, and Frank turns to watch him, cheek resting on his knees as he silently asks Gerard to come closer. 

“Is it warm enough?” Gerard asks as he steps forward, kneeling next to the bath when Frank nods. “I can heat up some more water, if you’d like?”

Frank shakes his head. “I’m fine,” he answers quietly. When Gerard’s hand rests on the lip of the porcelain, Frank covers it with his own. Smiling weakly, Gerard places his other hand on top and squeezes. 

Frank closes his eyes momentarily, taking in a deep breath and the shallow sounds of moving water. When he opens them again, he lifts his head. 

“Gerard,” he whispers and Gerard watches him expectantly as he pauses. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling this for so long.” 

“Feeling what?” Gerard asks softly, shifting on his knees. 

“This pain,” Frank replies. “The pain of losing a father. I never realised, never even imagined what it would feel like.”

“Frank,” Gerard starts, hand moving to brush a few wet hairs from Frank’s forehead. “It’s not your apology to give.” 

“But it is,” Frank insists. “When your father died, I was devastated, and even after you arrived it was my grief that was my biggest concern. But now that I feel it, I wonder how you’ve done it.” 

With a long sigh Gerard takes the cloth from the side and dips it in to the bath water. “There’s no secret to it,” he says as he begins to drag the cloth slowly up and down Frank’s back. 

“I’m not strong like you,” Frank whispers and Gerard drops a kiss to his hand. 

“It’s not about strength. There will be days when it’s the last thing you feel. It’s about acceptance and the will to move forward, for them and for yourself,” he explains before looking up at Frank with honest eyes. “But that is going to take time, and there are no set rules as to how much.” 

Frank’s eyes feel sore and dry, even though he can feel the tears starting to build behind them. “I don’t think I can feel this much longer,” he admits as his voice quietly breaks. 

“Longer than you think,” Gerard replies, rubbing the cloth over Frank’s shoulder. “And you don’t have to feel it alone. You have the tools right in this house to help, just like I did. I felt as though I could share my grief not because of the loss of a father, but the loss of Donald Way. The people of this house knew him like I did, they knew the person underneath the titles. I may not have known your father all that long, but there are many people in this house that have. You can hide away for as long as you want, with every right to do so, but there is a whole house outside those bedroom doors feeling what you feel. This house is still your safe place.” 

Reaching out, Frank wraps his wet arms around Gerard and holds him close, pressing them both against the side of the tub as though they can feel through it. Gerard’s uniform is getting wet, but he doesn’t appear to mind as he holds on to Frank just as tight. 

“Thank you for being here with me,” Frank whispers and Gerard squeezes him tighter. 

~

As the thick dark clouds roll over the house the next morning, Frank wonders if the whole world has turned black today. In the dressing room he watching himself in the mirror as he dresses for the occasion he never thought would come. 

Gerard is polishing both of their dress shoes when Mrs. Meredith knocks and enters. She’s dressed in a simple black skirt, blouse and bonnet and her pale face is stained with tears and a lack of sleep. She walks quickly to Frank and smiles weakly. 

“You look very handsome, Master Iero,” she says, bowing a little. It feels strange and unnecessary. Even Gerard looks up. She reaches in to her pocket and pulls out a pair of silver cuff links and Frank recognises them immediately. His stomach drops. “These were your fathers,” she says, placing them in Frank’s hand and squeezing. “They are yours now.” 

When she leaves as quietly as she had arrived, Frank looks down at his hand and wonders when it had begun to shake. Gerard’s hand appears over his, warm and reassuring. 

~

The carriage to town is waiting outside, pulled as usual by Sugar and Spice. Their reigns and harnessing are black along with the feather that plumes from between their ears. They’re a familiar site as Frank climbs in, purposely not looking to the carriage in front – the one that carries his father. 

Gerard and Mary ride in Frank’s carriage, upon Frank’s own insistence. The rest of the house staff and his father’s colleagues follow behind as the procession begins its slow crawl to the church. 

With his eyes closed, Frank sits back and feels the rumble of the carriage wheels. He tries not to think about every single time he and his father rode in this carriage together, but fails. How can his every thought not be about his father today? It feels cold and he shrinks in to his jacket, glad for the slow pace they travel. Of all the times Frank has been unwilling to get out of the carriage, this trip is definitely the one he feels strongest about – though it seems to be the one that ends the quickest. 

As the carriage stops, Gerard steps out first with Mary. When Frank opens his eyes, Gerard is offering a hand, smiling weak, but reassuring, at Frank. Just like not long ago. 

Frank is almost overwhelmed to see the amount of people that crowd the town, standing head bowed as his father’s coffin is carried in to the church. They’re here to pay their respects, here to say goodbye just like Frank is, to remember and to celebrate. With a deep breath and Mary’s leash gripped tightly in hand, Frank joins them. 

~

When they arrive back at the house, Frank is surprised at how it looks exactly the same. Without his father, it’s creator, Frank would expect the building to crumble in to nothing. But still it stands, and for perhaps the first time Frank is aware of just how big it looks. 

“I’ll make some tea, Sir,” Mrs. Meredith says as they enter the parlour, removing her gloves and motioning for Annie to follow. 

Frank nods but they’ve already left. He stares up at the painting, Gerard’s painting, that hangs in its new frame above the fire. The house still looks warm and bright – alive like his father is home. 

“I wish this home still felt like this,” Frank says, motioning to the painting. 

Gerard steps closer, though not too close as there are several other members of staff in the room. Frank doesn’t know why he bothers. They must know something after almost a week of Gerard rarely leaving Frank’s room. 

“It will do again, with time,” Gerard replies. “It will be home again.” 

“Will you help me?” Frank asks and when Gerard looks confused he reaches out to touch his elbow. Gerard is surprised but does not move. “Will you help me make this my home again?” 

Gerard is quiet for several long moments before he glances at the painting and nods. “Of course,” he whispers. 

Frank smiles. “Good,” he says, squeezing Gerard’s elbow. “You’re fired.”

“What?” Gerard gasps. 

“James,” Frank calls, turning to the man that stands by the door. He steps forward. 

“Yes, Sir?”

“Please have Gerard’s things packed and moved in to my room.” 

“Frank-” says Gerard, panicked. 

“Of course, Sir,” James nods before leaving promptly. 

Frank turns to the rest of the room. “Prepare for dinner. I want a great dinner with lots of wine and food. We’ll dine in the ballroom and every member of staff will attend. We will all eat together tonight.”

The few staff in the room turn to regard each other with a mixture of confusion and excitement. Finally, they disappear. 

“Frank, what are you doing?” Gerard asks, calm once more. 

Frank takes Gerard’s hand in his and laces their fingers together. “I’m trying to make this house feel safe again. My father always said he built this as a home for a family. This is my family.” 

“And this is the family you want? This is the life you want?”

Frank steps closer, resting his head on Gerard’s chest, hands still clasped. He nods. “Yes. At least while I figure things out. So, will you help me?” 

Smiling, Gerard presses a chaste kiss to Frank’s forehead. “Of course.” 

When Mrs. Meredith returns with the tea, Frank pulls Gerard down on to the couch next to him. He slips an arm around Frank’s shoulders and Frank sighs, relieved. The day has been long and draining in every way possible. Gerard pours them both a cup as Mrs. Meredith enquires about a choice for dinner. 

“Whatever you think best,” Gerard replies. 

With his eyes shut and head resting against Gerard, Frank lets the exhaustion take him. There is still much to discuss, much to decide, a life to build and a loss to grieve. Frank has to change, he’s got to grow and become the man to please his parents – to reach their expectations. And yet, somewhere in his mind, he believes he already has. The rest is just for him. 

 

The End.


End file.
